


Full Circle

by shanfawn16



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Explicit Language, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Sexual Content, Slash sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-15
Updated: 2008-12-02
Packaged: 2018-10-01 01:45:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 23,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10177838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shanfawn16/pseuds/shanfawn16
Summary: When Harry’s world falls apart, he needs someone else to be the hero and rescue him for a change. He just might get something more than he expected. Harry/George. DH compliant, but completely ignores epilogue.





	1. One: Drunken Appearances

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HP Fandom](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HP_Fandom_\(archive\)), which was closed for health and financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HP Fandom collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hpfandom/profile).

****

Full Circle

_**Summary:** When Harry’s world falls apart, he needs someone else to be the hero and rescue him for a change. He just might get something more than he expected. Harry/George. DH compliant, but completely ignores epilogue._

_**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

_**A/N:** After a significant break from writing, I could no longer ignore the incessant plot bunnies that had been plaguing me. This is my first attempt at a post-DH world – I hope it pleases. Thanks, as always, to the magnificent rdwind for once again helping me to turn my fics from mere ideas into reality._

 

**Chapter One: Drunken Appearances**

 

George was startled out of a sound sleep by the sound of his assistant, Verity, screeching from the store below. 

“Mr. Weasley! Hurry, please!” she bellowed.

George stumbled out of bed, hastily scrubbing at his eyes and tripping over his feet as he clumsily tried to throw his robe on before rushing down the stairs. Heart thudding, he drew up short as he saw Verity clutching at a very unconscious Harry Potter in the doorway to the shop.

“Bollocks,” George muttered, helping to relieve Verity of her burden. “What in the hell happened?”

“I don’t know, Mr. Weasley,” Verity answered, quickly shutting and locking the door behind her. “He just showed up out of nowhere and fell over.”

George dragged Harry over to a chair in the back room, placing his unresisting form down upon it. As he drew his wand to run a quick diagnostic spell over Harry’s body, Harry let out a horrid belch; the strong odor of Firewhiskey wafted from him in a virtual cloud. Verity apparently noticed the none-too-appealing scent at the same time, as she quickly covered her nose and took a large step back.

“He smells as though he’s been at the drink,” she mumbled around her hand.

“No,” George responded, “he smells as though he’s bloody well bathed in the drink.” George stepped back and ran a hand wearily through his hair. 

“I didn’t know Mr. Potter drank,” Verity said, braving a step forward.

“He doesn’t,” George replied with a heavy sigh. “Verity, would you firecall over to Lee and see if he’s available to help out in the shop? I think I’m going to have my hands full today. Also, be a dear and grab a bottle of Pepperup from the storeroom.”

“Right away, Mr. Weasley,” she answered, leaving the room hurriedly.

George crouched down in front of Harry, wondering what could have caused him to be in such a state. He rarely drank – and never to excess – citing the fact that he didn’t like the way it made him feel; Harry hated to be out of control. George briefly debated calling Ginny to ask if something had happened, but quickly decided not to do so. By the state of him, George could tell that Harry had been at it for quite some time. Since he hadn’t heard from a concerned Ginny already, he assumed that this had at least something to do with his baby sister. 

Verity returned to the room and handed over the bottle of Pepperup, reporting that, “Mr. Jordan is available and happy to lend a hand. He’ll be along within the hour,” she assured him. 

“Can you handle things on your own until then?” George asked.

“Of course, Mr. Weasley. Don’t you worry yourself about the shop. You just take care of Mr. Potter,” she said, squeezing his shoulder in support before turning and leaving to set up business for the day.

Knowing that Harry would need the Pepperup, George cast a quick _aguamenti_ , drenching Harry in cold water. Harry coughed and spluttered, taking in huge breaths as he was startled awake.

“Wha’?” he muttered, casting an unfocused glance around the room. “George? Have a drink wi’ me, mate! When did you get to the pub?”

“You’re not at the pub anymore,” George tried to explain to a somewhat cross-eyed Harry. “You showed up here at the shop and gave quite a scare to poor Verity.”

“Well, shite,” Harry replied drunkenly, “I didn’t mean to do that. I like Verity, even though she still calls me Mr. Potter. Why does she do that?”

“Don’t ask me; I’m still trying to get her to call me George. Here, drink this,” George said, carefully handing over the vial of Pepperup.

Harry drank it down, grimacing as steam began shooting from his ears. “I think I preferred the Firewhiskey,” he said, his face reddening.

“That should help with some of the aftereffects of your fun night out,” George said. “Now, I am going to take you home and you are going to sleep this off and then tell me what in the bloody hell is going on.”

“No,” Harry replied, shaking his head and making the steam swirl in frantic waves. “I can’t go home. I have no home,” he said softly, his eyes filling with tears.

George silently mouthed a few choice curses in regards to his sister, who he was now more certain than ever had caused this whole debacle. Summoning a handkerchief, he handed it over to Harry who absently mopped at his face.

“Don’t worry, mate,” George said, gripping Harry’s shoulder comfortingly. “You can come kip upstairs and we’ll sort all this out later.”

Harry looked up at him with wet, still slightly unfocused eyes. “I just don’t know what to do,” he said brokenly.

“Well then, it’s lucky that you’re with me, as I always know what to do,” George said assuredly, managing to coax a small, sad smile onto his friend’s face.

Taking his arm in a firm grip, George helped Harry stagger upstairs and tucked him into his own bed, sighing as Harry fell immediately asleep, his breath still hitching slightly.

George sat in a chair next to the bed, keeping and eye on his best friend. It took every ounce of willpower he possessed not to Floo over to Harry and Ginny’s place and demand some answers from his little sister. As much as he wanted to get those answers, he knew that no good would come from acting rashly. He would wait until Harry was rested and then hear the whole story.

Reaching out a hand, George pushed the sweaty hair that had fallen across Harry’s forehead to the side, wishing that he could fix all of his problems. Harry had single-handedly pulled him through the most horrible time in his life. George vowed to himself that no matter what had transpired, he would be there to help Harry through it. It was the least he could do. 

Leaning back in his chair, George kept up his vigil, watching over the man who had saved him and had given him a reason to keep living.


	2. Two: It's all in the past...

****

Full Circle

_A/N: See chapter one for disclaimers. Thanks to my fan-tab-ulous beta, rdwind for her friendship and support – even though this isn’t one of her favorite ships! You’re the best!!_

**Chapter Two: It’s all in the past…**

Even though his very life’s work was pranks and jokes, George considered himself to be a proper English gentleman about all the truly serious things… stiff upper lip, and all that. He worked very hard at keeping the past in the past and not dwelling on the time when half of his being was torn away. Unfortunately, seeing Harry so shattered quickly broke apart his resolve and George found himself lost in ruminations.

~~~~~

George had known the moment Fred had been killed. He likened it to the feeling one must have when losing a limb or some vital organ. He had often thought it would have been beneficial to talk to Mad-Eye Moody about his feelings on the subject. Of course, that was impossible since Mad-Eye was just one more of the innumerous people who were lost.

Even with hearing about and witnessing people dying during the war, George had never considered the possibility of surviving without his twin. Immediately following the conclusion of Fred’s funeral, George Apparated back to their flat and locked himself in the bedroom, unwilling and unable to talk to anyone. It was several days of family and friends breaking through his locking charms (and sometimes breaking down the actual door) and countless impassioned speeches trying to reach him before they all decided that what George really needed was time to himself to come to grips with his loss.

Most of that time was a blur. George vaguely remembered his mother weeping and clutching at him, begging him not to give up. At the time he thought that he should feel guilty that he wasn’t comforting her, but couldn’t quite build up the resolve.

About once every other day his physiological need for food would actually rouse him from his stupor and he would choke down some food which had invariably been left by his loved ones; even if everything he ate tasted like ash.

The one true constant over the months that followed was Harry. When everyone else drifted away to lick their own wounds and give him the space they all figured he needed, Harry refused to give up. As soon as it was possible, he called in Verity and opened the shop back up, selling from the back stock and inventory the twins had built up. It was several weeks before George even realized that this was going on.

Every night after closing the shop, Harry would make the trek up the back stairs and let himself in to the flat. At first he would show up toting take-out, but after a while he started bringing groceries and cooking. He would talk about the day and all the news in the wider wizarding world, but never Fred. He never pressed for George to talk and he never insisted that he eat or shower or even get out of bed. He was just there.

It was six months of constant dinners and one-sided conversations until things changed.

George couldn’t help but smile when he remembered the day when Harry told him to ‘get off his arse’ and start working.

“Everything you and Fred worked for is going to crumble if you don’t get off your arse and start production again. Lee can only do so much since he hasn’t been involved with Wheezes since Hogwarts. Business is dropping and your inventory is pretty much depleted. I understand that this is going to be hard with Fred gone, but he wouldn’t want Wheezes to end.”

George opened his eyes and met the determined green gaze for the first time in months. “What if I can’t?” he rasped. Just thinking about being in the shop without Fred made his whole being ache.

“For fuck’s sake, George,” Harry yelled, throwing his arms up in frustration. “This isn’t what Fred would have wanted. What if you had died instead of Fred? Would you want to see him fading away and giving up on the dream that you had worked so hard to bring to life? If you’re so intent on giving up, then you should just sell off the shop and do yourself in. Tell Fred I said ‘hello’.”

Harry rose so quickly from his seat that he sent it flying backward as he stormed from the room. George flinched as the door slammed shut behind him, making plaster rain down from the ceiling above.

Fifteen minutes later, George was showered, dressed, and walking into the main shop of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. 

~~~~~

George’s attention snapped back to Harry as the previously sleeping man started to show signs of waking up. A pained groan slipped its way past Harry’s lips when he attempted to sit up for the first time. Knowing the signs of a truly spectacular hangover, George went to his kitchen to retrieve another vial of Pepperup and a large glass of water. When he returned to the bedroom, Harry was sitting hunched over, cradling his head and whimpering softly.

“It could have been worse, mate,” George said softly, handing over the vial.

“How so?” Harry croaked.

“It would have been twice as bad if you hadn’t had that Pepperup before you passed out.”

“I had Pepperup?” Harry asked, finally looking up. George couldn’t help but snicker at the question as steam began pouring once more from his friend’s ears. Harry blearily looked around at his surroundings as he slowly sipped at the glass of water. “How in the bloody hell did I end up here?”

“Well, my friend, that would be the question of the day,” George said, sitting down in the chair next to the bed. “Feel much like talking this out?”

Harry scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed heavily before raising his bloodshot eyes to meet George’s. “It all gets a bit fuzzy after about the fifth or sixth drink.”

“Well, then, why don’t we start with why you were trying to drink yourself to death in the first place?”

“Probably not a very good idea,” Harry mumbled.

George sighed in exasperation. “I know it involves Ginny, so you might as well start talking.”

Harry looked up in surprise. “You spoke to Ginny?”

“Of course not,” George answered, waving his hand in dismissal of the idea. “You showed up and promptly passed out at my front door, Harry. Obviously, you had made a night of it, and the only person who has ever been able to drive you that far over the edge is my dear, sweet, baby sister. So, out with it.”

“Fine,” Harry huffed, “but I want to make it clear that I do not want this to turn into some sort of Weasley Family Issue, got it?”

“Got it, mate,” George replied, pulling the chair closer to the side of the bed to listen to the latest drama.

Harry took a long drink of water, as if trying to put off telling his story for as long as possible. Finally, he put down the glass and wearily looked up to meet George’s gaze. 

“It all started when Ginny decided that we need to move to Wiltshire.”


	3. Three: He Said, She Said

**Full Circle**

_A/N: See chapter one for disclaimers. Thanks to rdwind for her help and support. And thanks to everyone who has taken the time to review!!_

**Chapter Three: He Said, She Said**

“It all started when Ginny decided that we need to move to Wiltshire,” Harry started, his voice oddly flat and emotionless. “You see, there’s this new wizarding housing development and apparently, it’s the new posh place to be. Only the most influential and important people can even get an appointment to view the properties, never mind being invited to purchase one.”   
Harry took another sip of water, still avoiding any eye contact. George waited patiently, knowing that Harry had to take his time to get this painful story out in the open.

“I reminded her that we’ve had discussions like this before,” Harry continued. “It was something along those lines that forced me to give up my very comfortable flat and move into the pretentious, pompous building we’re in now. We’ve only been there for a year, and suddenly the ‘next big thing’ pops up and the ‘hip and trendy’ area of wizarding London isn’t good enough for her anymore.”

George raised an eyebrow but stayed silent as Harry’s anger began bubbling to the surface.

“Even if I was interested in spending far too much money on an overly large and hugely overstated house, which I’m most certainly not, I wouldn’t be doing it in bloody Wiltshire!” Harry asserted, slamming his glass down onto the bedside table with enough force to crack it. George watched as the remaining water slowly seeped out of it before turning his attention back to Harry, who had suddenly jumped up and started pacing.

“This little ‘development’ has Malfoy written all over it, for fuck’s sake,” Harry raved, getting into full rant mode. “Oh, I’m sure they don’t have their name anywhere where potential buyers could see it, but this is just the sort of move they would make to continue re-building their reputation. It’s right in their bloody backyard!”

“Harry,” George interrupted, almost flinching when piercing green eyes flashed in his direction. “You’re getting a bit off subject, mate.”

Harry took a deep breath, as if centering himself. “Sorry,” he said, running a hand through his already mussed hair. “Anyway, it went quickly downhill from there. She decided to revisit her favorite argument of how I’m not meeting my full potential and that I lack ambition and ‘how does it look that the Hero of the Wizarding World is hiding out in a joke shop’. We both said a lot of rather horrible things,” Harry admitted, looking quite remorseful. 

“So, that’s when you decided to try and drink London’s entire supply of Firewhiskey?” George asked, hoping to lighten the mood a bit.

“Not quite yet, no,” Harry answered. “That decision wasn’t made until after she proclaimed the relationship to be over.”

“What?” George said in surprise. “You can’t be serious! She ended it? Just like that?”

“Well, actually, first she said that I’ll never change and that she knew I would react that way. She also said something about me holding her back and that she already filed the paperwork to sell our flat.” Harry looked up and George almost gasped at the pained expression on his face. “Apparently this was the last and greatest test of our relationship and I failed with aplomb. She very gracefully informed me that my half of the money from the sale of the flat would be credited to my Gringott’s account just before she took her bags – which were already packed, by the way – and left.”

George was furious. Before he could stop himself, he was up and pacing the room. “That bloody little…”

“George!” Harry interrupted. “Just stop. She’s your sister.”

“Why are you defending her?” George asked. 

“Because I love her,” Harry said simply. 

George sat down heavily in his chair, humbled by Harry’s loyalty and depth of feeling. “How long has this been going on?”

“I don’t know. You knew that we’d been fighting on and off for a while.”

“Yeah, but…I didn’t know it was this serious,” George said.

“Funny, I didn’t either,” Harry responded, lying back down on the bed. “I just don’t know what to do now.”

“Right now, you don’t have to do anything,” George replied, knowing at that moment that he would do everything possible to help Harry through this mess that his sister had made. “Why don’t you rest for a bit and then we’ll get some food into you and figure out what the next step is, okay, mate?”

“Thanks, George,” Harry said with a small, sad smile.

George sat and watched him, even after his eyes had closed and his breathing evened out. It took every ounce of will power he possessed to not Floo off to find his darling little sister and shake some sense into her. However, knowing that Harry wouldn’t want him to do that, he resigned himself to staying put for the time being.

~~~~~

A few hours later, Harry had woken and managed to eat the scrambled eggs and toast that George had prepared for him. George attempted several times to engage Harry in discussion – mostly inconsequential things – but without much luck.

“Harry…Harry?” George had to wave his hand in front of his friend’s face to finally get his attention.

“Sorry, George. What?”

“What do you want to do?” George asked.

“I have no idea,” Harry answered, his tone flat and emotionless.

“Why don’t I pop over to the flat and get your things. You can stay here until the dust settles.”

Harry looked up quickly from his cup of tea. “What? I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You didn’t ask, mate,” George said with a reassuring smile. “You just hang out and get your bearings.”

“But…”

“No buts,” George interrupted. “Let me just go get your things before Ginny decides to sell them off too.”

“George,” Harry warned sternly and George held up his hands in defeat. 

“Sorry, mate, but she was way out of line on this one. Don’t worry,” he said when Harry looked ready to argue again, “I won’t start anything.” 

When Harry looked doubtful, George crossed his heart and tried to look innocent. He was rewarded with the first genuine smile he had seen from Harry since this whole mess started. Leaving the flat above the shop, he stopped and checked in with Verity and Lee, happy to see that they were having no trouble and assuring them that Harry was fine. He gathered up a few empty boxes from the store room and after muttering a Shrinking charm, he pushed them into the pocket of his robes before Apparating away to what had been Harry and Ginny’s flat.


	4. Four: She Said, He Said

**Full Circle**

_A/N: See chapter one for disclaimers. Thanks, as always, to the wonderful rdwind who still supports me and cheers me on, even when she doesn’t like where the plot bunnies lead me! Remember, reviews are an author’s bread and butter!_

Chapter Four: She Said, He Said

George had only just walked into the flat when he heard soft voices and various shuffling and banging sounds coming from the next room. Drawing his wand, he slowly and cautiously walked toward the slightly open door. Following his decidedly Gryffindorish nature, he straightened up, counted silently to three, and then kicked the door open, startling the room’s two occupants.   
“George,” a shrill female voice screeched, “What in Merlin’s name are you doing?”

Ginny was holding a rather hideous vase in one hand, a book in the other, and was staring at George with an expression somewhere between surprise and fury.

George started to lower his wand, only to immediately raise it again when another person shifted out of the shadows in the corner of the room. A large, blond man stepped further into the light, his eyes moving back and forth between the two redheads.

“George, put your wand down,” Ginny demanded, now looking more annoyed than anything else as she turned her back on her brother and went back to her sorting.

“Who are you?” George asked the man as he lowered his wand, but kept it at the ready, just in case.

Ginny let out an exasperated huff before turning around again. “This is Nigel. He works with me and was kind enough to come along to help me box up my things and help me move.”

“What the in the bloody hell is wrong with you?” George yelled at his sister. “Do you have any idea what you’re putting Harry through?”

Ginny’s shoulders tensed, but she continued sorting through the various piles of books and knick knacks without looking at George. “There’s nothing wrong with me and I would thank you to keep your nose out of my business.”

“Oho, that’s rich,” George replied. “Out of nowhere, you decide to break up with Harry – completely devastating him, by the way – and you’re going to act like nothing is out of the ordinary?”

“Trust me, it was not out of nowhere,” Ginny snapped, turning and facing her brother, hands on hips. “This has been building for quite some time.”

“Well that’s news to everyone but you, apparently,” George snapped back.

Ginny closed her eyes and took a slow, deep breath before turning to Nigel and smiling sweetly. “Would you mind giving my brother and me a few minutes?”

Nigel gave a small nod in answer and very courteously stepped from the room, but not before George noticed the quick brush of hands and the lingering look between the two of them.

Shocked speechless, George simply stared at his sister for a moment, knowing intuitively that there was more than an office friendship between his sister and the blond giant.

“What?” Ginny asked tersely, quickly turning away and dropping another trinket into the box in front of her.

“How long have you been shagging that moron?”

Whirling around, eyes blazing with anger, Ginny reared up and looked as fearsome as her mother ever had. George had to force himself not to take a step back from the fierce woman in front of him.

“First of all, Nigel is not a moron! He’s the head solicitor and reports directly to the Board of Directors,” Ginny informed him icily. “Secondly, I don’t see where it is any of your concern what I do with Nigel, nor how long I’ve been doing it.”

“You’ve become a right piece of work, haven’t you, Gin?” George responded. “Harry has bent over backward trying to do everything, give you everything that you want and this is how you repay him?”

“He’s never done anything!” Ginny shrieked. “He’s hiding away like a scared little boy instead of living up to his potential…his responsibilities! I understand that he helped you out with the shop after Fred died, but there’s no reason for him to still be hanging around there.”

“He’s not just hanging around and he did far more than just ‘help out’,” George said, fairly trembling in anger. “Harry’s the one that pulled me out of that horrible place in my mind. He kept the shop going because he knew that’s what Fred would have wanted. He never gave up on me – he’s never given up on anyone.”

Ginny stared at him shrewdly for a moment before throwing her head back and laughing. “You’ve been lusting after him all this time, haven’t you? Poor ickle George fancies himself in love with his little sister’s boyfriend, how sad!”

“What I may or may not feel for Harry has nothing to do with the way you’re treating him,” George said. “With the one exception of continuing to work at the shop, Harry has done everything you’ve ever asked of him. He’s miserable in those ridiculous designer robes you keep forcing him to wear; he hates the galas and showy events you always make him attend; he really hates this bloody flat. But he puts up with all of it because he loves you, Ginny.”

“If he really loved me he’d listen to what I’ve been telling him all these years and follow through on his responsibilities! He’s been offered strategic positions in the Ministry that would have set us up for the rest of our lives. All he would have had to do was pick one. If he would just play the game a little – smile for the cameras, give an interview or two, take lunch with the right people – he could be running the Ministry before he’s forty!”

George looked at his sister aghast. “All these years and you don’t know Harry at all, do you? He doesn’t want any of that. All he’s ever wanted was to just be a regular bloke – have a family and friends and a job that makes him happy.”

Ginny’s eyes glinted harshly. “Well, he’ll never be just a regular bloke. He’s Harry Bloody Potter and that entails living a certain kind of life.”

“That’s all you’ve ever wanted,” George snapped. “Ever since you were little, you had stars in your eyes and big dreams of living the big life. I suppose your Golden Goose out there will be well slated to give that to you, then,” he said, gesturing to Nigel who had slowly worked his way back over to the doorway again.

“At least Nigel understands what it takes to make something of yourself,” Ginny said, returning to her packing. 

“You are bloody unbelievable,” George replied. 

George stomped from the room, pushing roughly past Nigel before resizing the pocketful of shrunken boxes he had brought with him. “ _Accio_ Harry’s possessions,” he said, sighing sadly when he saw how few things responded to his summons.

Harry’s old school trunk thumped its way from the bedroom before settling next to the boxes. Other than that, only a few outfits, a handful of books and trinkets, and four or five framed pictures had zoomed out of various areas of the flat.

George opened the trunk, smiling despite himself when he saw the Marauder’s Map and Harry’s Invisibility Cloak lying beside a multitude of Harry’s most prized possessions. George recognized Harry’s family picture album and the moleskin pouch that he had carried for so long during that last horrible year of the war. 

George carefully added the framed pictures to the trunk before reclosing it. Folding the comfortable old clothes and placing them in one box, George put the remainder of Harry’s belongings into a second box and sealed them up. It made him sad to see that the only things Harry truly believed to be his own in this huge flat fit into two boxes and an old school trunk. 

He levitated his precious cargo over to the fireplace and, after tossing in the Floo powder, he left the spacious flat without looking back.


	5. Five: Stories and Solutions

**Full Circle**

_A/N: Sorry for the delay in posting. Here’s the next chapter. Thanks, as always, to rdwind, beta extraordinaire. Also, thanks to those who continue to return, read, and of course, review! : )_

Chapter five: Stories and Solutions

George stepped out of the fireplace and brushed the soot from his robes before going in search of Harry. He was still reeling from his confrontation with Ginny and hoped that he could get some more insight on what had really happened from Harry. There was far more going on than what had been visibly obvious.   
As he walked into the small kitchen area, he found Harry sitting at the table, head bowed and hands wrapped around the nape of his neck. George could feel the misery wafting off of him and immediately felt at a loss as to what to do to help.

“Harry? Are you all right, mate?” he asked, sitting down beside him.

“I don’t really know how to answer that,” Harry replied.

Deciding that he needed to know what was really happening, George wasted no time in getting to the heart of the matter.

“Ginny was at the flat,” he said. Harry cringed. “We talked a bit.”

“Is she okay?”

George fought to keep a grimace from his face. “She seems to be fine,” he answered vaguely. “She had quite a few things to say on the subject of you wasting away here at the shop.”

Harry’s expression darkened noticeably before he stood up and turned to stare out the window. “Yeah, she’s usually quite verbal on that subject.”

“Harry, what exactly has been going on?”

“Old story, isn’t it? Big fight, relationship over, I’ll be sleeping on your couch for the foreseeable future,” Harry replied.

“Cut the shite, Harry,” George interjected. “I want the real truth. You and Ginny didn’t just fall apart overnight. You’ve been keeping stuff from me and that’s not on! You’re my best mate and I want to help, but I can’t if I don’t know the whole story.”

Harry balefully met George’s accusatory stare before nodding and sitting heavily down once again at the table.

“It seems like it all started when Ginny took that bloody job at Malfoy Enterprises. I was against it from the start, but she was so excited about the opportunity, how could I not support her? And, to be fair, Malfoy has mellowed quite a bit,” Harry admitted. “He’s still a bloody prat and I can’t stand to be in the same room with the git, but at least he’s not a power-hungry sycophant like his father.”

“Harry, we all know Draco Malfoy is a far better human being than his father, and although that’s not saying much, it’s neither here nor there,” George said, trying to keep Harry on track.

“You’re right, sorry,” Harry answered. “Anyway, hiring Ginny as his Executive Assistant was the smartest thing Malfoy ever did. If anything cemented his new status as an innovator and Muggle-born supporter for all those ‘Wizarding United’ campaigns, it was hiring a Weasley. Besides, she’s a genius with the press and bloody fantastic with public relations; must be all that experience she has from handling you rowdy Weasley brothers for so long,” he said, smiling softly as he looked up at George. “I can’t blame him for taking her to every meeting and having her spearhead so many of their new ventures – she’s brilliant. I’ll never forget how excited she was after that first worldwide publicity junket.

“After a while, Ginny started talking nonstop about how great it was to stand up in front of those crowds and how empowering it was to head up meetings with all those VIPs. That’s when she started pushing for me to take one of those Ministry positions. And if that wasn’t bad enough, she started associating with Astoria Malfoy outside of the business and publicity functions. I almost started firing off hexes the first time I walked into the flat and saw Mr. and Mrs. Draco Malfoy sitting there. For fuck’s sake, George… she wanted me to socialize with them!”

If the situation wasn’t so serious, George would have laughed at the expression of horror on Harry’s face at the thought of being forced to eat dinner with the Malfoys. True, there was still no love lost between most of the Weasley family and the Malfoys, but Draco had made great strides to bridge the gap between Muggle-borns, half-bloods, and purebloods in the post-war wizarding world. Malfoy Enterprises headed up numerous foundations and programs that really did benefit the wizarding world as a whole. But, Harry was right on one point – Draco Malfoy would always be a prat.

“Pretty soon it seemed like no matter what I did, it wasn’t good enough,” Harry continued. “We were fighting all the time. Then, in the midst of all of that, Ginny started insisting that we get married. It’s not that I didn’t want to marry her,” he said hurriedly, “but I didn’t think it was the right time. Between her travelling all over the world for her job and all the fighting, it didn’t seem like a good idea just then.

“I know she only wanted what was best for me,” Harry said, lifting his pained, bright green eyes to meet George’s, “but she just never seemed to understand. I love her so much…why can’t that be enough?”

“I don’t know, mate,” George answered, feeling his heart break right along with Harry’s. He’d never known a truer, more caring soul than Harry Potter. It hurt to sit with him and see him so broken and vulnerable. At that moment, George wished for nothing more than to see Harry find the happiness he longed for and deserved.

Just then, there was a tapping at the window. George rose and unlatched it, letting in the handsome tawny owl that was begging entry. It immediately flew over to Harry and landed on the table in front of him, lifting its leg and presenting the scroll of parchment tied there.

Harry petted it absently and removed the missive, unrolling it and reading it. As George watched, Harry’s eyes grew large and, if possible, even more troubled.

“What is it?” George asked concernedly. 

Harry didn’t answer at first, instead keeping his attention on the piece of parchment lying on the table in front of him. George waited, knowing that Harry would explain when he was able. It was several minutes before Harry straightened up and rubbed roughly at his eyes.

“It’s from Andromeda,” Harry said simply, gesturing at the parchment. “Ginny just sent her an owl informing her of our breakup so that she wouldn’t be caught up short for our scheduled weekends with Teddy. Andromeda just wanted to let me know that she’s happy to keep Teddy on the weekends until I’m settled and can take him again.”

Harry handed the letter to him, and George quickly perused it. “Don’t worry, Harry,” he said, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly. “We’ll get you set up somewhere as soon as possible so that you don’t miss too much time with the little devil. I know how much your weekends with him mean to you.”

“This is just one more thing,” Harry mumbled, putting his head down onto the table.

“Hey, none of that now. It’ll be all right,” George said. Harry snorted in apparent disbelief, not bothering to lift his head. 

Quickly forming a plan, George summoned over a blank parchment and quill and set about writing a quick letter to Percy, hoping that he would know the right people to help. Harry looked up curiously at the continued scratching of the quill, raising one eyebrow questioningly at George.

“Percy knows everyone there is to know at the Ministry,” George said simply, smiling at the confused look on Harry’s face. “In other words, my dear friend, Percy should be able to get us a listing of available housing in the wizarding areas around London. You’ll want something roomy so your precocious young lad will have plenty of space to be the terror he was born to be. It should be in a wizarding area so that his substantial metamorphmagus abilities won’t attract too much attention. And, we’ll want to find something that’s available right away, if not sooner, so that there is as little disruption as possible,” he ticked off, finishing his letter with a flourish.

Harry gave George a small smile and George’s heart nearly burst with happiness to see the hope returning to his eyes. “Thanks, George.”

“That, dear Harry, is what friends are for,” George answered as he called over his owl and attached his note before sending it winging off into the sunset.


	6. Six: Home is where you hang your hat

**Full Circle**

_A/N: Thanks to my wonderful friend and beta, rdwind. She keeps me motivated and on track! Also, thanks to everyone for coming back to read and review!_

Chapter Six: Home is where you hang your hat

George tried to lighten Harry’s mood by telling horrendously inappropriate jokes while they waited for Percy’s reply. He was delighted every time he won a true smile from Harry and relished each laugh, loving the sparkle that lit up those impossibly green eyes. As much as he had tried to deny it over the past few years, deep down he knew that Ginny had been right on one count. He fancied Harry. More than that, he was completely and totally, arse-over-kettle in love with the bloke. George desperately hoped that Ginny would not tell anyone else of her revelation. 

In the end, it took four hours, three games of exploding snap, a large order of Indian take-away, and eight butterbeers between them before a very tired and frazzled-looking owl finally appeared, lurching crazily through the open window.

Harry looked on in apparent shock as George leapt up to relieve the poor, exhausted owl of its burden. George couldn’t help but snicker as he took scroll after scroll from the large burlap sac the owl had somehow managed to carry. 

“One thing that has always been true about Percy,” George started, “is that he is dependable. Sure, he was a first-rate arse during that whole episode where he seceded from the family, but that was then and this is now. Water under the bridge and all that.”

“What is all that?” Harry asked in an awe-filled voice.

“This just happens to be a very detailed listing of every property available from Cornwall to Yorkshire. Yup, good old dependable, predictably thorough Percy.”

“If Percy and Hermione ever joined forces, they could take over the world,” Harry said with a small snicker.

“Aye, but we’d all drown in the resultant paperwork,” George replied as he began sorting through the scrolls.

They worked late into the night, reading over the descriptions and locations of the various housing opportunities, only stopping when their extreme fatigue won out. George fondly watched Harry as he fell into an exhausted stupor, collapsing onto the couch and into sleep. Covering him with a blanket, George stamped down his completely inappropriate feelings as he turned in as well.

The next morning, over steaming mugs of hot coffee, they returned to their work. By lunchtime, they had narrowed down the possibilities to a much more reasonably-sized pile. Leaving the shop in the very capable hands of Verity and Lee, George insisted on accompanying Harry as he left to view the handful of properties in person.

There were six different properties to visit -- four flats and two houses. Harry had balked at first at the idea of actually purchasing a house, but had eventually caved to George’s assurances that it would do no harm to actually look. The first outing had them visiting two of the flats, which Harry dismissed immediately because of the similar fawning attitude of the properties' owners, and one of the houses. George felt that the small cottage was perfect for Harry, but the unsure look on Harry’s face had him holding his tongue for the moment.

They stopped at a small pub a short distance from the house to have a quick bite. George had never tasted such sinfully delicious fish and chips, and exclaimed so…noisily and often with a hearty amount of moaning and declarations of love thrown in for good measure. Harry simply rolled his eyes at the scene and tucked into his shepherd’s pie.

The evening showed them two more flats and the other house. George carefully watched Harry’s expressions to gauge his feelings of the properties. One of the flats was much smaller in actuality than what they were led to believe; honestly, why someone would want their tub in the living room was beyond George’s comprehension. 

The house had a lingering, and somewhat strong scent of cat, and George tried not to snicker as Harry’s nose wrinkled continuously. The owner seemed to be unaware, or perhaps immune to the smell, and kept asking Harry if he was feeling well. George found this to be extremely amusing, but after a warning glare from Harry, he kept his comments firmly stuck to the tip of his tongue.

The final flat was actually quite nice. George wandered around as Harry spoke with the owner of the property, poking his nose into the different rooms and taking stock of the place. It was a small building with only three other flats, located in a wizarding area just outside of Bath. The owner was very polite and although obviously a bit star-struck, maintained a pleasant veneer of professionalism. After looking over the flat and the area around the building, Harry shook the owner’s hand and promised to send word of his decision.

Once the owner had Disapparated away, Harry turned to George, a somewhat overwhelmed expression overtaking his face. 

“Now what do I do?” Harry asked, a slightly panicked overtone to his voice.

“Now you pick a place to hang your hat, mate,” George answered.

“The flat was nice, wasn’t it? It was a nice flat,” Harry said as he began pacing a bit.

“Harry,” George said, bringing his friend’s pacing to a halt. “You don’t have to pick right this second. Why don’t we go back to the shop, grab some butterbeers, and I’ll help you talk this out.”  
“Yeah, that sounds good,” Harry answered, sounding relieved.

They Apparated back to Diagon Alley, walking through the already-closed shop and up to the small flat. Grabbing two bottles of butterbeer and a large packet of crisps, George joined Harry on the couch. He absently chewed on some crisps and took a few swigs of his butterbeer, eyeing Harry. George could tell that he was feeling very overwhelmed about everything that had happened over the past few days. He knew that he would have to be careful in his support…the last thing Harry needed right now was to feel pressured in any way. However, he was going to do his damndest to try and get Harry to buy the small cottage rather than the flat. He just knew that it was the better choice, not to mention closer to London, being in Canterbury. He firmly told himself that it was not his inappropriate feelings for Harry that wanted him closer to London, but the fact that it was a better property for Harry’s needs.

“I really liked that cottage, mate,” George said, trying to feel out Harry’s opinion on the matter. “Nice size, nice yard, wizarding area, but not crowded. Could be a great spot, yeah?”

Harry sighed heavily, picking at the label on his bottle. “You reckon?” he asked George. “I don’t think I need that much space. I’ll be on my own, after all.”

“Not on the weekends,” he gently reminded Harry. “Teddy’s a growing lad and he’ll need the space. He can have a room of his own there and plenty of space for his rollicking adventures out in that back garden.”

Harry began shredding the small pieces of label he pulled from the bottle, watching as they floated down to the coffee table.

“You could even have an office in that third bedroom,” George added, trying desperately to make Harry see the benefits of the house. “That last flat was nice, I’ll give you that, but it’s a bit cozy. Plus, what if the neighbors are obnoxious? With the cottage you’d have your privacy.”

Harry made a noncommittal grunt as he began pushing the small pile of shredded paper around the table.

“Plus, it’d be a quick commute to the shop,” George threw in.

Harry finally looked up and met George’s gaze. “What difference does that make? I Apparate to the shop everyday, anyway.”

George floundered for a moment, but quickly regained his momentum. “Well, you wouldn’t want to tire yourself out needlessly with a long Apparition every day, would you?”

Harry returned his gaze to the pile of shredded label again and George let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.

“Maybe you’re right,” Harry said a few moments later.

“Of course I’m right,” George replied. “Have you ever known me not to be?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?” Harry asked with a small grin, which faded after a minute. “I just hate the thought of living all on my own. It’ll be so quiet.”

“Well, rather than an office, you could turn that third bedroom into a guest space and offer me free food and liquor and I’d be happy to kip over whenever it’s too quiet for you,” George said, keeping his eyes averted and his tone light. “You know I’m a sucker for Muggle pizza.”

There was silence for a few moments and George’s heart felt as if it was in his throat. He went too far, he could tell. When he raised his eyes, however, Harry’s face was split in a wide grin and his eyes were sparkling with excitement.

“You are a bloody genius,” Harry exclaimed.

“Well, this is a well known fact,” George answered. “Why am I the recipient of this obvious statement now?”

“You’ll move in with me,” Harry said simply, leaving George completely gobsmacked.


	7. Seven: Roommates?

**Full Circle**

_A/N: I am truly humbled by the response to this fic. Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to review! And, of course, thanks to rdwind for your time, support, and friendship._

Chapter Seven: Roommates?

“You’ll move in with me,” Harry said simply, leaving George completely gobsmacked, his mouth hanging open in surprise. 

“I’m sorry, could you please repeat that?” George asked, trying to reclaim his equilibrium. “It would seem that I must have misheard you. It’s an occupational hazard when one is missing the required biological mechanisms used for normal hearing.”

Harry absently glanced at the place where his missing ear had once been and laughed heartily, which made George’s stomach flutter unexpectedly.

“Good one, George,” Harry replied, wiping a merry tear from his eye. “But you heard me right.”

“In that case, let me try to understand. You want me to move in with you? You cannot be serious.”

“’Fraid so, mate,” Harry replied. “You’ve been complaining for years about how small this flat is and how you wish you had more living space. This is the perfect solution.”

George watched as Harry was becoming more animated with each passing second. 

“Harry, I don’t – ” George began, faltering quickly.

“There’ll be plenty of space,” Harry continued as if George had never spoken. “Then you could turn this flat fully into a lab for the shop. No more having to live with noxious fumes from your experimenting! Teddy adores you, so that won’t be a problem…” 

“Harry, you want me to just leave the flat?” George said, a spike of sorrow filling him at the thought of leaving the home he and his twin had made together. True, it had been more than five years, but he couldn’t help but acknowledge the sudden intense feeling of loss that returned to him at that moment.

Harry paused in his excited rambling, turning to look at George. A concerned expression fell over his face and he stepped forward, suddenly looking sheepish.

“George, mate, I didn’t mean…I just…Forget it, mate. I was just running off at the mouth…stupid idea, really. I guess I was just trying to avoid…”

“Avoid what, Harry?”

“It’s stupid, don’t worry about it. Want another butterbeer?” 

“Harry,” George interjected with a warning tone.

“Fine,” Harry huffed, throwing himself back against the sofa. “I’ve never lived alone, all right? It’s a bit daunting, is all.”

George’s first impulse was to say something snide, but he successfully squelched the inkling and thought about what Harry had said. Thinking back, he was stunned to realize that it was true. Harry had grown up with those horrid Muggles, but they were there, nonetheless. Then Hogwarts…it was almost impossible to find any solitude there. He camped out in close quarters with Ron and Hermione for most of that last year, then went on to get that flat with Ron, which quickly turned into his and Ginny’s when Ron moved into Hermione’s place. He had spent inordinate amounts of time crammed into the Burrow over the years, but…now that George really thought about it, Harry had truly never lived on his own. 

“There’s nothing wrong with feeling a bit unsure about this, mate,” George said reassuringly. “It’s good though to have some peace and quiet. You can make the place your own and not worry about anyone else’s opinions or bad taste in floral patterns…you’ll see, Harry. It’ll be smashing. Plus, remember…Muggle pizza is my weakness.”

Harry shrugged inelegantly, obviously trying to look nonchalant about the whole thing and failing miserably. George had worked in close quarters with the other man long enough to know when there was something more at play, easily picking up on Harry’s uneasiness and embarrassment at his confession.

“Something else other than the solitude bothering you?” George prompted.

Harry dithered for a moment or two, looking as though he were warring with himself as to how to answer. Finally, he looked up and George was taken aback by the haunted look that had settled into those verdant eyes.

“I don’t like the quiet,” he said simply. “Most of the time I’m okay, but sometimes when it’s too quiet, it just gets to me, you know?”

Harry had spoken in barely more than a whisper, which made the seemingly benign statement all the more chilling. He didn’t have to elaborate for George to understand immediately. Thinking back, there were times he had seen Harry wear that same haunted expression, staring off into space. Invariably some sound would startle him and he would jerk back into awareness. George never had to ask where his mind went on those occasions. He knew Harry had seen and experienced enough in his short life to cause such behaviors…he’d had some moments of his own, after all. 

It was in that moment of clarity and understanding, looking into green eyes which seemed far too old for the young man possessing them, that George made the biggest decision he had in years.

“Well then, it seems we have to make an offer on our future house,” he said airily as he loftily inspected his fingernails.

“Huh?” Harry stammered, confusion stealing over his face.

“Well, I’m certainly not going to be relegated to the status of permanent houseguest,” George explained. “If it’s to be our house, then we’ll both be purchasing it.”

It took a total of four seconds – George counted along with the pounding of his heart – for Harry to cotton on to what he had said. A wide smile broke across his features, putting a sparkle back into those eyes and chasing away the darkness that had resided there so recently.

“You’re not putting me on, are you?” Harry asked, his excitement bubbling just below the surface.

“I assure you there will be no on-putting,” George said solemnly, raising his hand in mock-oath.

“You’re really okay with this, with getting this cottage with me?”

“I can say it in a few different languages if that would clear matters up for you,” George replied, no longer able to keep the grin from his own face.

With an exultant whoop, Harry launched himself at George who had no time to prepare before the weight of the other man crashed into him, knocking them both to the floor. By the time he got his wind back, George was drowning in the gleeful laughter coming from the solid weight still atop him.

“You’ll see, George,” Harry was saying in between his fits of merriment, “it’ll be brilliant!”

George, for all his initial hesitancy, basked in the warmth of his best friend. Knowing he was the one to put that happiness and life back into Harry, he was sure that he made the right decision. As the now familiar, totally inappropriate feelings reared up inside of him, George fervently hoped that he wouldn’t regret it. And, as the warm, comforting weight of Harry continued to remain above him, he fervently hoped that his friend would not notice his totally inappropriate arousal.


	8. Eight: But What About Harry?

****

Full Circle

_A/N: As the story progresses, my muse was accosted by a very irate Harry who demanded to have a chapter written from his POV. Poor lad was unaccustomed to being a mere observer and needed to have a chance to express his own thoughts. So, ever a slave to the plot bunnies, I present the first chapter from Harry’s POV. Beware… Angst ahead. Thanks, as always to the wonderfully talented rdwind!_

Chapter Eight: But what about Harry?

Harry fidgeted uncomfortably, wondering how George had managed to talk him into this. 

They had just finished closing on their new house; a process that had required far less time and far more paperwork than Harry had ever imagined possible. His wrist still ached from the inordinate amount of times he was required to sign his name. Overall, it had taken less than a week from offer to completion.

And so, it was in the midst of his celebratory feelings that Harry had somehow found himself reluctantly agreeing to attend Sunday dinner at the Burrow. His one consolation was that Ginny was currently on the continent for Malfoy Enterprises, so he could at least avoid that incredibly uncomfortable confrontation.

On the other hand, he had hoped to avoid Molly Weasley’s oppressively caring ministrations for a bit longer. He truly did love the woman – she was, after all, the only mother he’d ever known. But she could be more than a bit smothering and he had a feeling that tonight would be one of those occasions.

He was still feeling quite despondent at times over the breakup with Ginny; however, he had been pleasantly distracted this past week with the house business – not to mention George’s continuous antics. If there was one thing in this world that could make him smile and forget his problems for a bit, it was George Weasley.

Although, at the moment, he was still feeling quite irate at his so-called friend. Harry was not entirely convinced that there hadn’t been some sort of spellwork involved to get him to agree to the impending gathering. The whole argument and subsequent relenting seemed a bit hazy, now that he thought about it.

Harry ran a hand through his already-tousled hair, sighing heavily through his nose as he cast yet another scathing glare at the smugly smiling redhead beside him.

“Don’t know what you’re looking so pleased about,” Harry muttered darkly. “Whole night is sure to be a calamity.”

“Oh, do buck up, Harry,” George said in an irritatingly cheerful voice. “It’ll be fine, you’ll see. Ron and Hermione will be there and Percy – we’ll have to invite him to our new house next week once we’re settled…thank him properly, don’t you agree?”

Harry glared at him again, remaining silent.

“Besides, how could there possibly be calamity when there’s roast beef?” George asked. “Mum even said something about treacle tart for desert as a celebration for the closing. Ahh, yes. No possibility of disaster when treacle tart is involved.” This brought a bit of a grin to Harry’s face. George always could reassure anyone about food.

By this time they had arrived at the kitchen door, having walked the distance from the wards surrounding the property. Harry could hear the familiar, usually heart-lightening laughter emanating from just inside, along with the expected clangs and bangs from Molly’s dinner preparations. Instead of the warmth and happiness Harry normally felt at these accustomed sounds, all he felt was impending doom.

He turned to George, casting one last withering glare only to be met with a cheerful smile and sparkling blue eyes. “Just be aware, George…I’m taking you down with me.”

~~~***~~~

As much as Harry tried to deny it, the roast beef and treacle tart did actually lighten his mood and the familiarity of the situation helped to raise his spirits to the point where his smile felt genuine again. He had even offered George a conciliatory grin and a shrug, thinking that perhaps he’d been right after all in persuading him to come to dinner.

That’s when the evening began to go horribly, horribly wrong.

“You’ve got to start coming round more often again, mate,” Ron was saying. “It’s just not the same listening to the Quidditch competitions on the Wireless without you there.”

“Well, you could come round to our place, now,” Harry answered, unable to keep the smile from his face.

“Harry, dear,” Molly interrupted, walking into the sitting room with tea for everyone. “You will let me stop by this week with some meals for the two of you, won’t you? I’d hate to see you neglecting yourself now that you’re on your own.”

Harry flinched at the sudden reminder of the reason behind his new living situation. He had actually managed to forget for a time, but now the realization that Ginny had truly left him crashed down on him again. 

“Mum,” George interjected quickly, “Harry and I are perfectly capable of feeding ourselves.”

“That’s not the point, George,” Molly continued, barreling into full Mother-Hen mode and refusing to take the hint. “I just want to make sure that Harry won’t be pining away and not taking care of himself. We all know he’s prone to that sort of thing…Not that there’s anything wrong with that, dear,” she said, turning back to Harry.

“Molly, can I help you with the cleaning up?” Hermione said quickly, darting concerned looks at Harry.

“Don’t be silly, dear, it’s all set,” Molly answered. “Now, Harry, you must be sure that you eat proper meals and get enough rest. You have to take care of yourself. I imagine it’ll be a bit of an adjustment having to look after your own affairs now that you and Ginny have gone your separate ways, but that’s no reason to neglect yourself.”

“Mum,” George said again, this time with a warning tone to his voice.

“George, stop interrupting,” Molly chastised him. 

Harry wanted to sink into the floor or disappear entirely. He was completely unprepared for the scene unfolding in front of him and he felt utterly powerless to stop it from continuing. There was a vague buzzing sound in his ears, but it did nothing to shut out the incessant and oblivious mothering being forced upon him.

“It really is a shame that you couldn’t work it out with Ginny. She came right over after it happened, of course. She was quite upset, naturally,” Molly continued, her eyes slightly misty. “Of course, you could work it out in time if you put in enough effort, I’m sure. 

“Arthur,” she said suddenly, turning to her husband who had until now managed to stay out of the conversation. “Didn’t you say something about a position opening up in the Liaison office?”

“Pardon?” Arthur said dazedly, apparently not able to keep up with the abrupt change in the conversation.

“It would be perfect,” Molly beamed. “This could be the first step in showing Ginny how much you want to work it out, Harry. It’s a lovely position from what Arthur has told me, and you could work together.”

Finally, Harry found his voice and the will to try to stop the horrible conversation. “Molly, I don’t want to take a Liaison position,” he said calmly, surprised by how even his voice sounded. 

“Oh, well that’s all right, I suppose. Not everyone’s cup of tea, is it? Percy, I’m sure you could ask around –”

“Mum,” George practically shouted.

“What, George?”

“Now is not the time.”

“What better time is there?” she continued. “There’s nothing wrong with trying to better oneself and find new opportunities. I only want what’s best for him…Harry knows that, don’t you, dear?”

Harry scrubbed wearily at his face with the heels of his hands, feeling completely exhausted and wanting nothing more than to curl up on George’s couch under the duvet and hide from the world. Looking up at the expectant face of his adoptive mother, he found he had no strength left to try and explain himself. “I’m sorry, Molly,” he said simply. 

With that, patently ignoring her confused expression and the concerned voices of his dearest friends, he quickly took his leave from the Burrow. He marched determinately across the yard, stopping only when he cleared the wards, and Disapparated.

Once he arrived at the shop, he wasted no time in climbing the stairs to the flat and positioning himself on the couch, just as he had wanted. He made no sign of noticing when George appeared a few moments later, but he heartily appreciated that his friend didn’t try to force any kind of conversation. 

He felt the shifting of the couch as George sat down by his feet and despite himself, felt the tiniest bit comforted when the solid weight of George’s hand came to rest on his leg.


	9. Nine: Moving On

**Full Circle**

_A/N: Thanks to rdwind. And many, many hugs and kisses and cookies to all who have taken the time to review! I love you all!!!_

Chapter Nine: Moving on

Time, as it is wont to do, moves on. Before George knew it, they had been living at the cottage for six months. The holidays had come and gone, leaving some very uncomfortable confrontations between Ginny and Harry long behind them. Life, itself, had fallen into a sort of rhythm. They had settled into a comfortable routine of work and domesticity that George quite enjoyed. George loved the weekends the most…and hated them, as well.   
Young Teddy crashed into their lives every Friday at half six, full to bursting with stories about his week, his hair changing violently from one color to the next. They would all eat dinner together and laugh and tease…it was brilliant.

On those weekends, it was established doctrine that at bedtime both Harry and George would have to each read a story (or make one up) before Teddy would acquiesce and go to sleep. Saturdays would bring time spent in the shop. Teddy loved to help out, eagerly putting on his own miniature version of the magenta robes worn so proudly by the WWW employees. Occasionally, he would even manage to get his hair to take on the exact same hue, amusing the customers to no end.

Sometimes George felt that if he tilted his head to the side and squinted just a bit, that it would look like he, Harry and Teddy were a real family. Long moments spent playing or talking or eating dinner together…tucking Teddy into bed at night…sitting with Harry on the couch and laughing over their latest antics; George could easily lose himself in that fantasy. 

Then, of course, Harry would say good-night and go off into his own bedroom, shutting his door and decimating all of George’s carefully constructed delusions. 

As if that wasn’t bad enough, Harry had become quite outspoken regarding his concerns as to George’s woefully empty social calendar. George knew that Harry only wanted what was best for him, but it stung horribly to know that what he really wanted was right in front of him, but horribly, eternally out of reach.

“But you spend all your time either at the shop or here at the cottage,” Harry was saying for what seemed to be the umpteenth time. “Why don’t you go out and meet some new people. Honestly, when was the last time you had a good shag?”

“I could ask you the same question,” George returned, wishing the conversation would end.

“Well, it was with your sister and I could detail it for you if you want,” Harry answered without missing a beat.

“Gah, no thanks,” George said grumpily, turning up the wireless to try and drown out Harry’s continued attempts.

“Jeanette from the ice cream shop is single,” Harry said loudly. George ignored him. “Robert from the book shop has a nice look about him.”

“Harry,” George intoned warningly.

“What about Simon?” Harry asked, raising his voice to compete with the increasing volume of the Quidditch commentary currently blaring from the speakers.

George closed his eyes and tried not to listen to the not-so-helpful shouts coming from the other side of the couch.

“He quite fancies you, you know,” Harry continued to yell. “He’s a fit bloke…maybe you should take him out.”

Huffing in frustration, George turned the wireless off with a tap of his wand. “For fuck’s sake, Harry! Can’t you just leave it alone?”

“No,” he answered calmly. “I’m worried about you. You haven’t dated anyone in years. It’s not right.”

“Right or no, it’s not up for debate. Jeanette is a vapid idiot, Robert is an anal-retentive prat and I don’t rightly care whether Simon fancies me or not. He’s the bloody supplier for the shop, Harry!”

“Yeah, I figured that, since I’ve been buying ingredients off of him for the last three years,” Harry responded wryly.

“And you don’t think that would be awkward?” George queried as he despondently realized there was no escaping Harry’s good intentions.

Harry shrugged carelessly. “Perhaps. But think of all the backroom sex that could be happening.”

George’s mind very unhelpfully provided an image of just that, but with Harry in the starring role. George groaned miserably.

“Just think on it, mate,” Harry said, squeezing his shoulder as he walked from the room, closing his bedroom door behind him.

***~~~***

‘Just think on it,’ George repeated to himself, grumbling angrily as he hauled boxes around the backroom. ‘Wish I could stop thinking about it, stupid, bloody prat.’

Three days since the latest debate on George’s nonexistent love life and George still couldn’t erase the image of Harry bent over a crate, sweating and writhing as George did very naughty, very enjoyable things to him.

George was just grateful that he had survived yet another Valentine’s Day without major repercussions. Of course, his living arrangements had provided far too much fodder for his ever increasingly frustrated wanking sessions. 

If he was truthful with himself, George knew that this ridiculous pining for his best mate was making him completely miserable. As much as he hated to admit it, the logical part of his brain knew that going out with someone new and spending a little time apart from Harry would probably do him a world of good. He sighed heavily as he mopped a bit of sweat from his brow. 

It was times like this when he missed Fred more than ever – when he needed some counsel and advice. It was one thing to know logically what was best, but his heart still clenched painfully at the thought that he would never be able to have what he truly wanted with Harry. 

George quietly walked to the doorway and peered out, seeing Harry behind the counter, bantering easily with a customer. Laughing and smiling brightly, Harry managed to light up any room he was in. George had never before known anyone like Harry – so full of love and life. He was constantly amazed by Harry’s resiliency and endless caring for everyone around him.

George spent a few moments just watching him, allowing himself one last chance to categorize and memorize all of those little things that made Harry so special. The way he tilted his head just a little when listening to someone, the way his eyes crinkled just a bit at the corners when he smiled, the way he gestured with his hands when he was excited about what he was talking about. 

As George returned to his work, he felt as though he had closed a door. Something in him had finally raised up and given him the strength to walk away from this long-held desire that could never be. It wasn’t fair, but it was the way it had to be. 

George finished moving the last of the crates and cast a Cleaning charm on his hands and robes. As he headed back into the main shop to help Harry finish up for the day, he heard a familiar voice. Looking out around the doorway, he saw Harry talking with one of their suppliers. 

Simon, he had to admit, really was a good looking man. Tall and broad, he had thick, light brown hair and friendly brown eyes. In his early thirties, he had an easy-going temperament and seemed to be quite at ease in his own skin. He was quick to smile and always happy to lend a hand. George allowed himself to watch the older man for a few minutes, considering him in a new way. 

Without any further hesitation, George walked out into the shop and headed straight to Simon.


	10. Ten: A Simple Touch

**Full Circle**

_A/N: This story couldn't have happened without the wonderful rdwind. Thanks to everyone for all the lovely reviews!_

Chapter Ten: A Simple Touch

George moaned as strong, sure hands grasped and squeezed his arse and his mouth was assaulted by what might have been the most talented tongue in the known world.   
It had been three weeks since he had approached Simon and asked him to dinner and it had been truly lovely. Simon had a sharp wit and dry sense of humor that George found quite pleasant. He was well-read and had traveled quite extensively. George really enjoyed listening to the many stories that Simon had of his experiences abroad and about the literature he had collected from various countries around the world.

However, at this moment, none of that compared to the wicked way Simon had him pressed against the wall, his leg pressed deliciously between both of George’s. It had been far too long since George had felt any kind of intimacy with another person.

After Fred had died, Fred’s one-time girlfriend, Angelina, and George had occasionally found comfort in each others’ arms. In a way, it was like having a small piece of Fred back. Whenever the longing and the sorrow got to be too much for either of them, they found solace and relief in the most physical way. However, a little more than a year before, Angelina had met and taken up with a new bloke, and so that chapter in George’s life closed with nothing but the best of wishes and a mild sense of missing something that he had never really had.

But this…this slow, liquid fire that boiled in the very center of his being…he had forgotten how much and how quickly he could lose his senses in such an onslaught. George had been in no rush to progress physically with Simon at first, and Simon had readily respected that. But that had all changed with nothing more than a simple touch.

After returning to the cottage from a very nice dinner out, George had invited Simon in to enjoy some tea with the desert they had taken away from a small bakery in the nearby village. While eating and laughing together, Simon had suddenly reached out and brushed away a small morsel of cake that had lingered on the corner of George’s mouth. Something in the easy way he had done that caused a spark to ignite.

George caught Simon’s hand and pressed it to his lips, reveling in the way Simon’s eyes glittered and his breath hitched in surprise. Simon leaned forward and brought their lips together, moving them slowly and gently against each other. George deepened the kiss, completely inundated with the feel and smell and taste of Simon and for the first time, losing himself in those sensations. 

They had somehow managed to move themselves away from the table and were pressed against the wall of the kitchen, hands becoming more frantic with each passing second. George threw his head back, relishing the feel of Simon’s mouth as it licked and nibbled across his neck, surely leaving a mark or two in its wake. Another press of thigh against his already sensitive groin had George questioning why they hadn’t done this sooner. Opening his eyes, he met Simon’s sure and needy gaze and, for the first time, did not long to see green eyes staring back at him. 

“All right, George?” Simon asked, concern flashing in his brown eyes.

“Absolutely,” George replied, panting from the onslaught. “Take me to bed?”

“Are you sure?” 

“Do I feel sure?” George responded, rolling his hips forward against Simon’s. 

Simon let his head fall backward, moaning as George continued pressing forward. “Lead the way, love,” Simon said, his voice husky.

George grabbed his hand and pulled him quickly out of the kitchen and toward his bedroom. The minute he closed the door, he was pressed back against it, Simon’s mouth crushing against his once again. Letting go completely, George was only minutely aware of the hurried removal of clothing before he felt his naked body pressed against what felt like miles of taut, warm skin. 

Hands roamed, lips kissed, teeth nipped… George was completely awash in sensation. He was vaguely aware of hearing himself moaning and begging, but was far past the point of caring. Simon suddenly pulled him toward the bed, practically throwing him down on top of the bedspread before falling on top of him. George instinctively wrapped his legs around Simon’s hips, moaning as their cocks rubbed together. 

Sweat-slicked bodies slipped and rubbed against each other, faster and faster until George thought the friction would set him ablaze. Finally, blissfully, George felt the fire coil up from his belly and he saw flashes of white behind his closed eyes as he came, crying out as he found his release. Simon continued thrusting, rubbing, sliding for a moment longer, calling George’s name as he, too, finally crested.

The two men lay together, panting and holding one another, unmindful of the sweaty, sticky mess that was between them. George felt Simon peppering his face and neck with small, warm kisses, and he relaxed into his embrace. 

“All right?” Simon asked in between kisses and nuzzles.

“Bloody brilliant,” George answered, hearing a quiet snicker in response. 

George enjoyed the warmth and easy comfort for a bit longer, before deciding that a Cleansing spell would not be amiss. He separated from Simon, rooted in his robes for his wand, and then cleaned them both with a flick of his wrist. 

“Want a drink?” he asked, feeling that a celebratory butterbeer was in order.

“Only if you promise to hurry and get that cute arse back in here,” Simon replied with a smirk.

George couldn’t help but smile at the response and waggled said arse in Simon’s direction as he threw on his dressing gown and left in search of butterbeers.

As he walked back into the kitchen, he was surprised by two things. First, the mess he had expected to encounter from the sudden abandonment of their desert was not there. Secondly, Harry was. 

George’s first thought at seeing Harry sitting at the kitchen table was that he looked a bit green, and so was concerned about his health. Harry was sat very still and he clutched a very large glass of Firewhiskey. George’s second thought was that he and Simon had not cast any sort of Silencing charm, and he suddenly remembered being quite vocal about some of the things Simon was doing to him. 

George felt himself blush deeply. “All right there, mate?” he asked weakly.

Harry looked up at him and blushed as well. “Apparently not as well as you,” he responded.

George felt a wave of guilt try to roll over him but successfully quashed it, reminding himself that there was no reason for him to feel that way. “Sorry about that,” he said with a half-hearted shrug of the shoulder. “I didn’t know you were home… we kind of got carried away.”

Harry blushed a little deeper and George idly thought that it was attractive before he beat that thought down as well. “Nothing to apologize for,” Harry assured him quickly. “It’s your house, too, after all and you have every right to…entertain,” he said, stumbling over the words a bit. “Just caught me off guard, that’s all.”

“We’ll remember the Silencing charm next time, I promise,” George reassured him.

They sat awkwardly together for another moment, neither appearing to know quite what to say in this new situation. “Well, I should be getting back,” George said, rising and grabbing two butterbeers from the cooling cabinet.

Harry caught sight of the two bottles and blushed again, averting his gaze back to his own glass of Firewhiskey. He nodded shakily at George, taking a large gulp of his beverage.

George faltered for a moment, watching the slight shake to Harry’s hands and the way he seemed to be so very uncomfortable. Resolving to talk to his friend in the morning, he let all other thoughts melt away as he returned to the very handsome, very naked man adorning his bed sheets.


	11. Eleven: A New Perspective

**Full Circle**

_A/N: Here's another from Harry's POV. This chapter picks up about two weeks after the last. Thanks, rdwind!_

Chapter Eleven: A New Perspective

Harry was sat at the kitchen table with a very large glass of Firewhiskey. Again. He was of the opinion that this was happening a little too often, but here he was, in any case. Tonight he was blaming it on the stress of having to deal with a very upset, very loud Teddy, who, for all intents and purposes, was not well pleased to be put to bed without his favorite bedtime story-teller. Where said bedtime story-teller was, Harry could only guess. Although, he really didn’t want to think about the various positions and possible situations those guesses might suggest. 

He didn’t know why he was so bothered by the thought of George and Simon together. In all honesty, he hadn’t been troubled by the thought at all until he had seen a very rumpled and satisfied-looking George after having listened to what had obviously caused said rumple and satisfaction. 

Harry took another large gulp of his drink. It had been two bloody weeks ago, for fuck’s sake! And now George was out with Simon…again…and on a Friday. It is not at all easy to explain to a small child why their well-crafted and much-loved routine is suddenly shattered. It’s not as if Harry could say, “Sorry, Teddy, but George had to nip on over to Simon’s flat for a bit of the slap and tickle. You’ll understand when you’re older.” Bloody hell.

It had been two solid hours of crying, arguing, pleading…and that was just on Harry’s side. He’d never seen Teddy so distraught. He just couldn’t go to sleep without George there to make up one of his fantastical stories. Now that he had finally gotten the menace to sleep, Harry was drowning in the absolute silence of the night. It just wasn’t right for it to be this quiet on a Friday.

It was well into Harry’s third (or was it fourth?) glass of Firewhiskey when George and Simon tumbled in, smiling and laughing and holding onto each other a little too closely. Harry frowned and took another swallow, averting his eyes.

“Hullo, Harry,” Simon called out happily. Harry glared at him over the rim of his glass.

George eyed Harry suspiciously before turning and whispering something to Simon, giving him a lingering kiss before shooing him out the door. Harry frowned again. There was something not quite right about this situation, but Harry was having a hard time focusing on what exactly that could be. He tried to take another drink, but George appeared very suddenly in front of him and removed the glass from his hand.

“Hey, that’s mine! Get yer own,” Harry grumbled, giving what he hoped was an appropriately scathing look. However, the snicker George gave in response put a damper on that expectation. 

“I think you’ve had about enough of this,” George replied, taking a sip of the drink for himself. “Want to tell me what’s troubling you?”

“Nothing,” Harry pouted, crossing his arms defensively in front of his chest. 

“Now, now, none of that,” George reprimanded gently. “Have I done something to set you off?”

“Why don’t you ask Teddy?” Harry answered, grabbing his drink back and managing to spill a fair portion of it in the process. “He was a bloody wreck tonight without you here.”

George whipped his head around and stared at the closed door to Teddy’s room. “Sorry, Harry,” he said, sounding very contrite. “Simon and I got caught up. I meant to be back, honest. I’ll make it up to the little man tomorrow, I promise.”

“Fat lot of good that does me tonight,” Harry mumbled, drinking the last dregs of his Firewhiskey and then mourning its inevitable loss. “’Got caught up’ he says. I can just imagine what you and the stupid blighter ‘got caught up’ doing.”

“Hey,” George said sharply. “What the bloody hell is going on with you? You’ve been acting like someone’s kicked your crup for days now. If Simon or I have done something to offend you then just come out and say it.”

“You’re spending far too much time with him,” Harry yelled. George winced and fired off a Silencing charm at Teddy’s door to keep him from waking. “You’re shirking your responsibilities.”

“What?” George asked, his face filled with confusion. “Is this just about missing story time with Teddy? Or is there something else going on here?”

“Well, if you don’t know, I’m certainly not going to explain it to you,” Harry said sourly as he tried to gain his feet swiftly and gracefully, and failed miserably. He stumbled a bit and George reached out to steady him. George’s hand felt as if it were a torch and it fairly burned his skin on contact. Harry hissed and pulled his arm away. “Save it for Simon and the bedroom,” he yelled.

George took a staggering step back, his face morphing into a look of such hurt that Harry’s breath caught. “Harry, I would never…I don’t know what I’ve done to upset you so much, but you must know that I would never have hurt you intentionally.”

Harry closed his eyes and wiped a slightly shaky, weary hand across his brow. “I’m sorry, George. You haven’t done anything. I don’t know what the bloody hell is wrong with me lately. I don’t mean to be such a prat…I should never have gotten into the drink again. Makes me a right mess, doesn’t it?” 

Harry raised a cautious eye to George and was relieved to see that some of the hurt had faded from his eyes. Harry knew that George would never hurt him and, frankly, he knew that George wasn’t doing anything that Harry hadn’t encouraged him to do. He was just so bloody confused and he didn’t know why.

“Harry, if you want to talk…about anything…you know I’m always here for you, right, mate? First and foremost, always,” George assured him, tentatively reaching out a hand once again to rest on Harry’s arm. 

Harry felt the same rush of heat from the touch and stared at the way George’s freckled hand stood out against his darker skin. He felt a bit dizzy and disoriented, his stomach flipping over disturbingly as he moved his gaze from the shared contact back up to George’s face. When he met that blue gaze, his breath caught once again and he was immobilized for a moment. For the briefest moment, a bare flicker of a breath of time, Harry had the strangest urge to lean over and kiss George. He shook his head and took a step back, trying to regain his equilibrium.

“I think I need to take myself to bed and sleep this off,” Harry said quickly before he did something monumentally stupid. “We both know it’s always a horrendously bad idea for me to drink, and I’ve been doing a bit too much of that lately.” Harry backed off a bit and turned toward his room, but was stopped once more by George’s hand.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” George asked. “Are we all right?”

Harry smiled, trying to force as much reassurance into his expression as possible. “Of course we’re all right,” he said. “A good night’s sleep and a new lock on the liquor cabinet is all I need and everything will be right as rain. Don’t worry, mate,” Harry said, “I just need to shake off this silliness. ‘Night.”

“Good night, Harry,” George answered, his gaze remaining fixed and concerned as Harry backed away. 

Even after he closed his bedroom door, he could feel those blue eyes on him. He fell onto his bed, feeling his confusion swirl about him, cloaking him and trying to smother him. Had he actually meant to lean in and kiss George? That was just not on. George was his best mate…George had finally just gotten on his feet and started something with Simon, on Harry’s suggestion! Simon was a good bloke, so why did Harry suddenly have this bizarre desire to punch him in the face whenever he saw him? 

Harry’s mind circled these numerous questions as his weariness, with a little help from the alcohol, pushed him into a restless sleep before he could find any answers.


	12. Twelve: A Choice

**Full Circle**

_A/N: Thanks to rdwind...my sounding board, my support, my friend. And, thanks to all of you who continue to read and review!_

Chapter Twelve: A Choice

George stirred the cauldron cautiously, making sure to count out the twenty strokes carefully before adding the powdered doxy eggs. He was behind on his production of Skiving Snackboxes, but it wouldn’t do to rush and make a mistake at this stage. George silently berated himself for becoming so distracted from his priorities at the shop. True, Simon was quite a delicious distraction, but nevertheless, there was a time and place for such things. 

“Hello, gorgeous,” a silky voice suddenly said from behind him, startling him and nearly causing him to drop the stirring rod.

George cast an annoyed glance over his shoulder before returning to his brewing. “Simon, I’ve asked you before not to come up to the lab during business hours. I’ve really got to concentrate here.”

“Ooh, testy,” Simon said in a teasing tone, causing an answering wave of irritation in George. “I’ve merely come to ask where you’d like to go this Sunday for dinner.”

George faltered for only a second before adding the three required drops of peppermint oil. “What are you talking about?”

Simon snorted in amusement. “Well, it is your birthday, isn’t it?”

“I thought we already went over this,” George replied tersely, not wanting to rehash their argument from earlier in the week. “I don’t celebrate my birthday and I’ve plans already for that day.”

“I don’t understand the issue here, George,” Simon said, moving to stand rather close behind him and making him distinctly uncomfortable as he tried to slice the porcupine quills.

“What’s not to understand? I don’t want to go out, I’ve plans with Harry, that’s all there is.”

“I just don’t see why you can’t spare some time for me on _your_ birthday,” Simon said in exasperation, pulling at his hair. “Why is it that Harry gets to be involved in this celebration, or whatever, but not me? I could come and spend the day with you and hear the stories, too.”

“First of all, it’s not ‘my birthday’. It was mine and Fred’s,” George explained in clipped tones. “Secondly, Harry gets to be there because Harry’s always been there. This is what we do. I don’t celebrate my birthday anymore the way you’re insisting. Get over it.”

George was quickly moving from annoyed to quite angry. Of all the stupid, bloody-minded things to fight about, Simon had to pick this one. He couldn’t understand why Simon wouldn’t just leave it alone. Some things were non-negotiable, and the first day of April was on the top of that list. 

Yes, it was George’s birthday. But, it was also Fred’s. Every year George spent April first in the same way. The shop stayed closed, George put on a pair of Fred’s old pyjama bottoms, and he and Harry spent the entire day telling stories about Fred. They ate all of Fred’s favorite foods while sitting on the couch, laughing and crying and sharing and mourning. Everyone knew that was how George spent his birthday and everyone respected that. 

Everyone except Simon. 

“It’s just dinner,” Simon cajoled, moving to wrap his arms around George’s waist. “It won’t hurt to get out for an hour or so. You deserve to be treated.” 

“I’m not going out,” George yelled, shaking out of Simon’s embrace, the frustration nearly choking him. “I’ve standing plans with Harry, just as I do every year. Just drop it, already.”

“This can’t be healthy, honestly,” Simon seethed. “Help me understand…is there something more to you and Harry that you just don’t want to tell me?”

George laughed humorlessly. “You have absolutely no idea how ridiculous that statement actually is,” he said, turning back to his cauldron.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Simon replied, his own tone now becoming clipped. “I’ve been watching the two of you for years, you know. I’ve seen the way you’ve always looked at him. Frankly, I was shocked as hell when you actually asked to take me out. I would have sworn that you’d been letting him bugger you for years. At first I was expecting you to take me home for a nice little romp with both of you.”

This, finally, was the breaking point. George spun around, potion forgotten, anger boiling through his veins at the very suggestion he would have treated Harry so casually. “I think it’s time that you leave,” George said through gritted teeth.

“No,” Simon replied, his voice rising. “You do not get to dismiss me so easily. I deserve some sort of explanation as to what is truly going on here.”

“I’ve given you all the explanation you’re going to get,” George replied. “I’ve tried to be reasonable, but you just refused to hear me out. I won’t allow you to start hurling accusations about just because you are too thick to understand.”

“Oh, I understand,” Simon yelled back. “I understand perfectly well that you’re trying to shut me out and go running back to Harry. Well, I don’t deserve to be thrown aside like that – used and cast off just because I’m not your first choice.

George clenched his fists at his side, trying, and failing, to stamp down his rage. Before he could vent his growing fury, however, he was brought up short by the sight of Harry standing in the doorway, his green eyes alive with the anger he felt.

“I daresay I’m interrupting,” Harry said coldly, glaring at Simon with a look of pure contempt.

“Yes, you are,” Simon replied, barely casting Harry a glimpse. “I’d appreciate it if you’d remove yourself so that George and I might finish our discussion.”

“No, I’m afraid I can’t do that,” he answered casually, causing Simon to turn his own angry glare in Harry’s direction. Moving closer to the two men, Harry continued, his voice lowering to a dangerous level that made most people quake. “You see, not only are you causing a disruption that is making the customers uncomfortable, but you happen to be making my partner very uncomfortable, as well. I believe I heard him ask you nicely to leave. If you can’t be bothered to respect that, I’ll have to repeat that request…and I’m not nearly so nice.”

Simon’s face reddened in anger as he continued to meet Harry’s stare. In some, far corner of George’s mind, he was actually impressed. Most people would have cowered and faltered under Harry’s glare by now, but Simon continued to meet it head on. 

Simon turned back and faced George once more, his jaw set and his nose flaring as he tried to rein in his anger. “This is it, George. You need to make a choice. I refuse to be second best in your affections. I tried to see past your obvious feelings for him for months, but I can’t do it anymore. Which will it be?”

George faltered at Simon’s ultimatum. True, at first, he had struggled with the fact that, as wonderful as Simon was, deep down he still wanted Harry. He had really tried to move past that, knowing that it would never be a possibility. He had been content in his relationship with Simon…but apparently, it hadn’t been enough. It seemed that no matter how hard he had tried, he couldn’t let go completely, and Simon had seen it. Guilt, relief, and a little sadness warred within George for a moment.

“I’m sorry, Simon,” he said simply, knowing that he’d never be able to exorcise Harry the way Simon wanted him to.

“So am I,” Simon replied, his shoulders sagging a bit. Without another word, he swept out of the room, brushing roughly past Harry in the process.

The next few moments were tense ones; the only sounds were the glutinous bubbling of what was sure to be a ruined potion, slowly solidifying in the background.

“All right?” Harry asked cautiously.

George took a slow, deep breath, closing his eyes as he tried to come to grips with all that had happened. “Yeah, I reckon,” he replied.

Harry stepped closer, raising his hand to brush the hair back from George’s face, but then quickly pulled his hand away, blushing brightly and taking a few steps back. “I’m sorry if I…” Harry started, faltering over his words.

“It wasn’t anything you did, Harry,” George reassured him, trying to ignore the heat on his face where Harry had touched him. “It just started with an argument over Sunday and ballooned. I guess there were some problems between us that we had been ignoring for too long.”

George met Harry’s concerned gaze and knew, without a doubt, that he would never, truly, be over him. He cast a rather sad smile in Harry’s direction before turning to banish the disaster that was all that remained of his afternoon’s work.

It was as he was debating whether or not to start a fresh batch when he heard Harry’s shuffling, unsure gait returning. George turned around, ready to reassure his friend, once again, when he was surprised by Harry’s strong, warm arms suddenly wrapping around him.

George faltered for a moment in shock at the unexpected embrace, but quickly folded himself into the warmth of the moment. Refusing to release the tears that seemed to want to come at the injustice of the whole situation, George took a few deep breaths and allowed Harry’s comforting friendship to ease his troubles, instead. 

As Harry slowly pulled back from the hug, he quickly turned his head and lightly brushed his lips against George’s cheek. “ _I am_ sorry,” he whispered against George’s ear, quickly stepping back and then leaving the room.

George stood stunned, completely immobilized by all that had transpired. The memory of Harry’s comforting embrace and the warm ghost of his kiss lingering on his cheek gave new life to all of George’s hopes and desires regarding Harry. Closing his eyes to relive the moment, George returned to his work. All the while, however, a warm breath of apology blowing past his ear lingered on.


	13. Thirteen: Birthday Surprises

**Full Circle**

_A/N: We're heading toward the exciting conclusion... Just a couple more chapers to go. Thanks, as always, to rdwind for all her help. And, my eternal gratitude to every one of you who keeps coming back to read and review!_

Chapter Thirteen: Birthday surprises

George started his morning the same way he had started this day for the last five years. He rolled out of bed, showered, and pulled on the admittedly horrid flannel, plaid pyjama bottoms that his twin had so loved. They were orange and purple, highlighted with a shade of brown that really should never be mentioned, let alone used. They were very old; worn and faded in some places, but all the more comfortable for that reason. 

Leaving his room, he walked to the kitchen to start the tea, knowing that when Harry returned from dropping Teddy off he’d be more than ready for a good, strong cuppa.

It seemed that before he could even finish this thought, Harry came bounding into the house. “Oh, good, you’re up,” he said distractedly, throwing his jacket toward the coat rack, which obligingly snatched it from the air and settled it on one of its hangers. “Just give me a mo’ and I’ll be back.” 

George didn’t have time to reply as Harry hurried to his room, practically slamming the door in his wake. Tapping the kettle with his wand to heat the water, George tried to keep his thoughts on the importance of this day, and off the windblown, flushed look of his newly returned roommate. Before he could pour the tea, Harry was bounding back into the room, wearing the matching set of hideous, plaid pyjama bottoms. 

George couldn’t help but smile at seeing Harry in what were once his own pants. They only donned the horrible abominations on the first of April, but it had become tradition to do so. At first, when George had taken to wearing Fred’s old pair for comfort, Harry never batted an eye. In fact, he could never be sure how Harry had known he was wearing Fred’s pair and not his own. On that first birthday after Fred’s death, however, Harry had shown up at the breakfast table clad in George’s pair. They never discussed it…it just came to be.

They settled together on the couch, plates of cinnamon toast and orange tea between them as they began their remembrance. 

“Remember that time when Fred…” George started. They were all well-known stories, told a thousand times, or so it seemed. But that never seemed to matter. Harry still laughed at all the right places, making the story-telling all the more meaningful. Harry added his own memories and tales, as well. It always amazed George that they could fill an entire day this way, and yet it always happened.

It was as the evening was drawing to a close that the mood somehow shifted; looking back, however, George would come to realize that it had been a slow, lazy, inevitable drift throughout the day.

They were clearing away the last of the plates that had previously held an abundance of curried lamb kebobs (another of Fred’s favorites), when George suddenly noticed Harry’s extreme proximity. George had been so hyper-aware of Harry for so long, that he was shocked that he hadn’t been aware of his friend moving so close. 

Harry handed him the last plate to put in the sink, their hands and arms brushing in contact as he did so. George just barely managed to stop the nervous shaking of his hands as he started the Cleaning charm on the dishes. He fought a brief internal battle with himself over whether to take a step away, easing the tension now palpable in the air, or to stay put, enjoying the feeling of warmth and closeness.

Harry cleared his throat and shifted his eyes to meet George’s and then away again, nervously. “I wanted to apologize again for yesterday,” he said softly. George didn’t know whether to be amused or concerned over the way Harry was wringing the dishtowel and shifting his weight back and forth between his feet.

“Harry, I already told you not to worry about Simon. It wasn’t your fault. Something like that was bound to happen sooner or later,” George assured him, not quite meeting Harry’s eyes. Now it was his turn to shift nervously. George still wasn’t sure how much of the argument Harry had heard, as they had managed to successfully avoid speaking about the confrontation and its after-effects.

“I wasn’t talking about Simon,” Harry said, “but good riddance, anyway.” His eyes flicked back to George’s again, briefly. “I meant about the kiss.”

George’s heart suddenly picked up its tempo and started to flutter in a most disconcerting way, making him feel flushed and a bit faint. His mouth dried out and he was suddenly unable to bring his thoughts together in any sort of coherent manner, never mind force himself to speak. He was left to lean against the sink, staring awkwardly and, he thought probably somewhat stupidly, at Harry. 

“It’s just…” Harry faltered a bit and took a shaky breath before straightening up a bit and meeting George’s confused gaze more directly. “It’s just that I was a bit thrown after hearing your argument with Simon and…well actually, I’ve been a bit confused for a while, I reckon.”

“How much did you hear?” George asked, hating how small and unsure his voice sounded.

Harry continued to meet his gaze unflinchingly and George wanted nothing more than to fall into those green eyes and live in their depths. “I heard most of it, I believe.” 

George winced a bit, but kept silent; he half-wanted Harry to admit that he now knew of George’s feelings for him, and half-wanted to continue living in his complete and utter denial. He abstractly remembered one of his mother’s favorite sayings that she would inevitably drag out during rough times. ‘Hope for the best, but prepare for the worst,’ she would say. Right now, George wasn’t sure what the best or the worst would actually entail.

“I didn’t like you being with Simon,” Harry said unexpectedly, surprising George yet again. He wondered how many surprises he could take in one week.

“But it was your idea for me to approach him in the first place,” George replied, feeling a bit dazed and having a hard time keeping the thread of the conversation with Harry’s too-green eyes still locked on his.

“I know,” Harry answered with a grimace. “I didn’t understand for quite a while what I didn’t like about it. I’m still not completely sure why it bothered me so much, but I think I might have worked some of it out.”

They stood looking at each other for a moment, the silence almost becoming unbearable. George was frozen, feeling as if he would be unable to move even if his life depended on it. Harry fidgeted slightly, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as he seemed to struggle with some internal debate. Finally, just when George thought every nerve in his body would surely snap from the increasing tension, Harry broke the silence.

“Is it true?” he asked. “Do you have feelings for me, like Simon said?”

George had a momentary urge to panic and flee, his mind showing him a brief vision of him summoning his broom and flying away to hide for the rest of his life. But one look in Harry’s eyes erased all those thoughts. He took a steadying breath and knew that it was time to end this secret.

“Yes,” George said, his voice much stronger than he had anticipated. “I have done for quite some time. I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable, because I’d never…”

George was silenced very unexpectedly by Harry, who had suddenly lunged forward and crashed their lips together, stealing not only his breath, but his last hold on sanity, as well.

Completely unable to wrap his head around this new situation, George gave up on his vacationing brain and let his body lead. He threw his arms around Harry, returning the kiss with everything he had… years of pent up longing and love were poured into every touch, every caress of his lips against Harry’s. He felt Harry’s hands gripping and twisting his shirt, clamoring for purchase as he took everything that George gave, returning it just as enthusiastically. 

They continued on in this manner for what could have been forever, but was in actuality only a few minutes. The kiss slowed, even as their hands continued to grip fiercely, their breathing hitched and jagged.

George closed his eyes, resting his forehead against Harry’s, sure that this had been the most wonderful delusion to ever have been granted to someone experiencing a psychotic break. He thrilled in the feeling of their mixed breaths against his heated face, loving the tangy taste left behind from Harry’s spicy dinner. Opening his eyes, he was once again struck mad by the sight of the piercing green eyes staring back at him.

“So…” Harry started, licking his lips. George stared at the glimpse of pink as it darted quickly past. “I guess we should talk, huh?”

George knew that the grin that broke across his face must have been the widest that had ever been in residence there.


	14. Fourteen: New Beginnings

**Full Circle**

_A/N: This is it! Just this chapter and then the epilogue. Thanks to the fabulous rdwind who supported me and encouraged me and acted as muse when needed. Also, thank you SO very much to everyone who kept coming back week after week, to read and review! You mean so much! And now..._

Chapter Fourteen: New Beginnings

George found himself being correctly British by insisting that they have good, strong cups of tea in hand before starting in on the conversation. Harry fidgeted quite a bit as George prepared the tea, but seemed to calm as soon as the cup was cradled in his hands. George wondered for a moment what it was about tea that seemed to make everything seem so much more bearable. 

They settled back on the couch, sipping their tea and postponing “the talk” as much as possible. George couldn’t stand it.

“Well?” he asked nervously, wishing they could skip this part and go back to the amazing, possibly imagined, snogging.

Harry put his teacup down, met George’s eyes, looked away, and then picked up his tea again. He opened his mouth once or twice, but faltered.

“I’ll start, shall I?” George asked, wanting to hurry this along. “You, Harry, just sexually assaulted me in our kitchen after admitting, not in quite so many words, that you were jealous of my boyfriend and happy that we had recently broken it off. Am I right so far?”

Harry wore a delightfully shell-shocked expression and nodded, still apparently unable to find his voice.

“Well, this isn’t exactly something that happens everyday between us, is it?” George offered, smiling as he slid a little closer to Harry. “I must say, I find this to be a lovely turn of events and I’ll be horribly disappointed if this all turns out to be some sort of very detailed delusion.”

“Are you angry?” Harry asked timidly, his teacup rattling a bit as he placed it back on the table. “I didn’t mean to assault you.”

George couldn’t help but laugh, the last of his nervousness melting away. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to snog you like that?” Harry blushed attractively in response. George shifted a little closer. “What is it that you want, Harry?”

Harry drew in a ragged, halting breath before lifting his eyes and meeting George’s hopeful gaze. “I want you.”

George’s heart was pounding out a staccato beat, the blood pounding through his veins so loudly that he thought he would surely go deaf from it. “Physically, or all of me?” George asked tentatively, unable to stop his continued slow slide across the couch. 

“I want everything,” Harry replied. “I want your humor, your intelligence, your compassion, your horrible jokes, your fantastical bedtime stories, your incessant tendency to burn the toast, your optimism, your strength, your blue eyes, your ginger hair, your strong, calloused hands, your lips, your tongue…”

George was fairly panting as Harry continued to speak, drawing ever closer to what he had wanted for longer than he could remember. As Harry trailed off, George was bare centimeters away, feeling Harry’s breath ghost out across his lips, feeling the heat pouring off of him and joining the waves he felt sure were rolling from his own body. 

“I think that could work,” George said in barely more than a whisper, finally closing the distance and bringing their lips together once again.

This time, the kiss was less of an assault and more of a slow, sensuous mapping as George took his time to learn every dip, every ridge of Harry’s mouth. George let his hands trail up Harry’s arms, finally allowing them to caress and grip and explore as they had wanted for so long. As his hands floated over Harry’s face and sank into his thick, eternally unruly hair, George couldn’t help the soft whimper that escaped his lips. 

Harry groaned in response, reaching around and pulling George tightly against him. The heat was incredible, making George believe they could actually ignite from the intensity of it, but desiring just such a thing. George wanted to tear away the clothing that was acting as a barrier between them, but at the same time, wanted nothing more than to continue to drown in the amazing, soul-wrenching kiss. His decision was made, however, when he felt Harry’s hands travel under his tee-shirt and make contact with the bare skin beneath.

Pulling away, George looked searchingly at Harry. “Harry,” he said imploringly, searching for the words to express how much he wanted.

Harry, his eyes dilated with lust, tightened his grip, his fingernails pressing almost painfully into the skin of George’s back. In an instant, George found himself thrown back against the couch, Harry’s weight pushing him down. Lips attached to George’s neck, sucking and tasting, drawing gasps of approval. Somehow, Harry managed to grab hold of George’s hands, entwining their fingers and pinning them above his head. The full-on body contact drove the last reasonable thoughts from George’s mind.

Rolling his hips, George couldn’t contain the moan that erupted from him at the feeling of Harry’s answering hardness through the thin material of their pyjama bottoms. Harry hissed, biting George’s neck as he began his own slow thrusts against George.

Never had George felt such waves of pure bliss. He reveled in the sensations of touch and taste and smell as Harry enveloped every one of his senses. When he felt Harry tense above him, heard the rumbling moan escape his lips, and felt the wetness seeping through the clothing and against his skin, his mind exploded. Flashes of bright, white lights illuminated his vision as he came forcefully, right from his very soul, arching his back and curling his toes and wrenching, what he was sure was, a very embarrassing noise from him. His vision grayed and he was positive he would never be able to take another breath. Finally, he was able to draw a gasping, burning breath into his lungs, made all the sweeter by the accompanying scent of Harry and sex.

As his rational mind slowly returned, he was overjoyed to find he was still completely enveloped by Harry. George separated their still-entwined hands and reached them around to embrace Harry, reveling in his weight pressing down against him.

“That was brilliant,” Harry whispered against his neck, causing George to shiver as his hot breath tickled against his sensitive skin. Harry began placing soft, gentle kisses against his neck, slowly working his way across to his jaw and finally bringing their lip together again. “Are you okay?” he asked between kisses.

“I can honestly say that I’ve never been better,” George replied blissfully, happy to return the kisses.

“What do you say we clean up and take this to a bedroom?” Harry suggested.

George wasted no time in pressing Harry upward, grabbing his hand and dragging him quickly across the cottage to the bathroom. Harry smiled at the eager reception and George’s heart fluttered wildly at the look of happiness affixed to Harry’s face. 

Turning on the shower, George then returned his attention to the dream-come-true standing before him, plying him with kisses and nips and licks as he slowly peeled away their clothing. It didn’t take long before they were both showing their arousal again. George led Harry across the tiled floor, stepping into the shower and pulling his very-willing partner with him. 

The steam gave the whole scene a surreal, dream-like quality. They continued to kiss and discover each other, hands gliding over water-slicked bodies, tentative touches and explorations which led to rewarding moans and sighs.

By unspoken agreement, they left the shower, lovingly toweling the water from each other before hurrying to the nearest bedroom, which happened to be George’s. In the oak-paneled room, on his deep burgundy bedspread, George very happily laid back, rejoicing at the feel of Harry’s naked body covering his own. 

The two men paused for a moment, and George used the time to appreciate Harry resting above him, his long, lean body tensed slightly in anticipation. Harry looked back, seeming to search out George’s eyes for some sort of reassurance. George wanted nothing more than to wrap Harry up in all the love he felt him and keep him safe and happy forever. 

“I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want this…as much as I want you,” George said, gasping as Harry’s hands gripped tightly at his sides. “Merlin, Harry, just don’t stop touching me.”

“Never,” Harry replied, moaning as he rocked their groins together. “I want you so much.”

“Yes, please,” George said, turning his head as Harry bit into the junction of his neck and shoulder, leaving a mark behind.

“Tell me what you want me to do,” Harry pleaded. He ran his hands down to George’s arse, kneading and squeezing his cheeks.

“Lube,” George said as he wrapped his legs high around Harry’s waist, reaching out to scrabble in the bedside drawer. He laughed in victory as his hand curled around the bottle, which quickly turned into a gasp as Harry rocked their groins together again.

George fumbled with the lid for a moment before wrenching it open and pouring out far too much in his exuberance. Reaching between them, George began quickly preparing himself, dragging a stunned, and very sexy moan out of Harry as he sat back to watch.

“Bloody, fucking hell,” Harry said in amazement, his reddened cock twitching at the sight in front of him. 

Not wanting to waste any more time, George quickly progressed from one to two fingers, stretching himself as quickly as possible. Then he used his slick hands to oil Harry’s now weeping cock, drawing out yet more amazing sounds from the brunet. 

“Now, Harry,” George urged as he pulled his legs back, displaying himself openly.

Harry made no response as he lined himself up and started to push in. His eyes fell closed and he moaned unashamedly as he slowly entered George’s tight heat. George let the burn of Harry’s entry consume him, wanting nothing more than to feel every ridge and bump of Harry’s glorious cock stretching him wide.

Once George assured Harry that he was fine, Harry needed no further encouragement to continue. Feeling Harry repeatedly thrusting in and out, being filled time and again, George shattered and let Harry put him back together again. As their need continued to build, whispered endearments and promises were given and taken, kisses and embraces shared. George was amazed with how quickly his orgasm built, surprised as he came from just the sensations of Harry’s thrusting and the friction of their bodies rubbing against his cock. Harry’s thrusts became erratic, increasing in pace as he also reached his peak, finally cresting as he shouted George’s name.

The two shared soft kisses as they slowly came down from their high, nestling against each other and basking in the promise of new love and new beginnings.

In the corner of the room, in a framed picture on the dresser, Fred smiled.


	15. Fifteen: Confrontations

**Full Circle**

_A/N: At the urging of my muse and beta, rdwind, this chapter has been crafted and added before the epilogue. If it doesn’t please, I have no one to blame but myself, as rdwind’s ideas are brilliant. I only hope I’ve done it justice! I hope you all enjoy!_

Chapter Fifteen: Confrontations

George grasped Harry’s hand a little tighter, knowing that his lover needed a little extra support to face the events of the evening. Looking over at his partner, he couldn’t help but appreciate the way the dress robes hung on his lithe frame. Even though Harry had filled out over the years, he was still trim and sleek – he would always retain a Seeker’s build. George stepped into the building, pulling a reluctant Harry along with him. 

Tonight was the sixth anniversary of Voldemort’s defeat, and as such, it was expected that the “Heroes of Hogwarts” make an appearance at the annual celebration ball at the Ministry. Harry grumbled and groaned every year, but still managed to drag himself to the festivities, putting in a token appearance. 

George knew he only went so that he could see old friends, like Neville and Luna, and to catch up with the Professors and hear the latest news from the school. This year was different, though. This was the first public appearance that George and Harry would make as a couple. They had kept their new relationship a secret since April, just enjoying the newness of it and learning even more about each other than they had known previously. They had only just informed the Weasleys about it last week, wanting to let them know before the news hit the public. 

As always, the ballroom was beautifully decorated, ornate and expensive adornments shining brightly in the candlelight. Soft music played throughout the hall while platters of food and champagne floated amongst the exquisitely dressed guests. The marble floor was shined to an almost mirror-finish, reflecting the candlelight back toward the ceiling and sparkling brightly.

George led Harry through the crowd, snagging two flutes of champagne on the way, and steered him to a table in the back of the room. Harry sank gratefully into one of the chairs, taking a large gulp of the bubbly beverage. 

“Easy there, love,” George said softly, rubbing soothing circles on Harry’s arm. “The night is young, yet.”

“I bloody hate these things,” Harry said morosely.

“I know. I promise we’ll only stay through the first course of the meal, then we’ll sneak off before they start with the boring speeches. All right?”

“Promise?” Harry asked, looking miserable.

“Of course,” George reassured him, leaning in to press a soft kiss against his lips. 

A flash of light startled them, making George pull back abruptly. A photographer from the _Prophet_ smiled smugly at them before moving on to surprise other guests. Harry groaned as his head dropped to the table.

“Don’t worry, love, we were expecting that, after all,” George said calmly.

“I know, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Harry grumbled.

Over the next hour, they visited with several old friends and professors from Hogwarts, catching up and breaking the news of their relationship. Everyone was happy and offered their congratulations, seeming relieved that Harry and George had found happiness together. 

***

George left Harry to use the loo, promising with a gentle kiss to return quickly. Harry smiled at a few Ministry members before turning to see the long red mane of his ex-girlfriend headed in his direction. Finding a calm center, and wishing with all his might that George would return, he greeted Ginny with a forced smile which faltered when Ginny stepped just a bit too close for him to move away. Her own smile reminded him of a lioness who had caught her prey.

“Evening, Ginny,” Harry began, once again searching the crowd for George.

Ginny, in her own fashion, went straight for the kill. “So, you and my brother?” Harry nodded and the stupid grin that accompanied thoughts of George formed on his face before he could stop himself. “It's not that this is completely unexpected, but honestly, couldn’t you have found another family to leach off of?” Her arms crossed in front of her as she spewed her venom at Harry. “When I left you, you were supposed to get a clue as to how your life should be. Instead, you bent over to allow George to enjoy himself. You know, with the right shopping expedition, I could have taken care of that for you and you wouldn’t have to deal with being laughed at again.”

The last sentence struck a nerve and just as he was gearing up to defend his relationship with George, he looked up to see that same man talking to Draco Malfoy, and they were headed in his direction. Ginny, however, did not see them approaching, as her focus was solely on Harry. “Oh, Harry, don’t bother to deny it. It’s obvious who the dominate one in the relationship would have to be. Perhaps if I had taken a stronger tack with you, you wouldn’t have had to further embarrass yourself with my idiot brother…”

***

George and Draco had stopped directly behind her. George was appalled at Ginny’s disparaging remarks. He could feel Harry’s anger radiating from him in waves, and wondered at how Ginny could stand there so calmly in the wake of it. Moving around his sister, he took Harry’s hand, kissing the brunette softly in an effort to calm him before he blew the roof off of the room. 

“Hullo, Ginny,” George said, giving his baby sister a disappointed glare. 

“Good evening, George,” Ginny replied. “You both look well,” she said, sneering slightly at the sight of their clasped hands. “Going public already, I see?”

“We didn’t see any reason not to do so,” George answered, keeping a cautious eye on both Ginny and Harry. He had a bad feeling as to where this was going. 

“So, George…” Ginny started, looking at Harry with a thinly-veiled look of disgust. “How long did it take after we broke up to get him to into your bed?”

Harry’s eyes snapped up and met Ginny’s, anger blazing in their green depths. “I really don’t think that’s any of your concern,” he answered coldly. 

George wrapped an arm protectively around Harry’s shoulders, preparing to steer him away from any further uncomfortable confrontations. George looked over to Malfoy, expecting to see a sneer, but was surprised to see a look of surprise mixed with what he thought might be a hint of disappointment.

“Ginny,” George said sternly, “this is neither the time nor the place for you to vent your spleen about the way things worked out.” 

Ginny turned her gaze back to George and uncrossed her arms, taking a defensive stance. “You were just waiting for the perfect opportunity to grab onto Harry, weren’t you? I knew it the night we broke up…you’d been drooling over him for years. So, when he finally bent over for you, was it everything you’d fantasized about?”

“Ginevra,” Malfoy said suddenly, startling Ginny with his seemingly unexpected arrival. “Your behavior is completely inappropriate and unprofessional. I insist that you pull yourself together and comport yourself in a manner appropriate to that of a high-level employee of Malfoy Enterprises.” 

“Of course, Draco. My apologies,” Ginny replied as she gave one last seething glance to Harry before turning and walking quickly away. 

Malfoy watched Ginny leave before turning and meeting Harry’s eyes. “Evening, Potter,” Malfoy drawled, offering his hand. “The Ministry has outdone themselves this year, don’t you think?” Harry nodded somewhat dumbly as he shook Malfoy’s hand. “Well, I must be off to see to other business. Enjoy your evening.” Without further ado, Malfoy nodded to the pair of them before leaving briskly and meeting up with Ginny on the other side of the hall. They saw Malfoy take hold of Ginny’s arm, very obviously lecturing her. George was surprised to see Ginny look abashed.

Looking over at Harry, George saw that his lover’s jaw was hanging wide open…and then realized that his jaw was just as slack. He didn’t know what surprised him more – Malfoy’s interference on their behalf or Ginny’s swift compliance. It would appear that, in at least one aspect of her life, Ginny had finally learned her place.

“Well, that was odd,” Harry said, sounding a bit confused by the whole confrontation.

“Indeed,” George replied. “Another drink, then?” Harry nodded dazedly in reply.

The two men headed back to their table. Just as they arrived, a House-elf appeared and presented them with a bottle of, what turned out to be, a very rare, very expensive champagne. The note attached to the bottle read:

_My apologies, again, for my employee’s misbehavior. Please accept this with my congratulations. May your new relationship bring you a lifetime of happiness. ~DM_

Looking up, they saw Malfoy across the hall, raising a glass in salute. George, still feeling a bit mystified, nodded in response. 

Harry leaned in and whispered into George’s ear, sending shivers throughout his body. “What do you say we take this back home and start finding some of that happiness?”

George grinned widely, wicked ideas of just how to put this champagne to use running through his head. Without further ado, George grabbed Harry’s hand and hurried him out of the ballroom. The evening just took an unexpected upturn.


	16. Epilogue: Christmas Greetings

**Full Circle**

_A/N: And so, we’ve come to the end. Thanks to everyone for the support and the lovely reviews! I’m thrilled to be writing again, and am humbled by the warm reception. Thanks to rdwind for all her support, encouragement, and assistance! Please, leave a review and tell me what you think of my first post-DH romp!_

Epilogue: Christmas Greetings

Harry smiled as he felt George take his hand as he stumbled, as usual, out of the fireplace. The sight of his newly bonded husband never ceased to fill him with happiness, pride, and a considerable amount of lust. That last, however, was pushed aside as he was snatched up into a crushing embrace by his mother-in-law. 

Molly Weasley beamed at the two young men, artfully unwrapping them from their jackets and taking their packages while chattering a mile a minute. The familiar smells of home, holiday, and wonderful food pervaded the Burrow, and Harry grinned even wider. The chaos of Christmas at the Burrow was everywhere, as hugs and handshakes and greetings were shared around.

Ron and Hermione grabbed the two new arrivals up at once, shuffling them into the sitting room where they could catch up. Hermione was fairly glowing as she eased her very pregnant self down onto the settee, laughing as the baby within her kicked and wriggled under loving hands. Harry and George shared a private smile at the sight, anticipating the moment when they could make an announcement of their own.

Andromeda and Teddy arrived shortly thereafter, being the final guests to arrive. The Burrow was filled with laughter and love and the joy of young children vying over presents. Harry couldn’t remember ever having been happier.

It was half-way through the delectable feast that Molly had prepared that the first of the day’s surprises blew in through the door. With a loud bang and a cold wind, the kitchen door slammed open and then was shut quickly, revealing an irritable looking Ginny Weasley, shaking snow from her long mane of red hair.

“You could have let me know that you reset the wards around the house, again,” she said as she removed her wet cloak. “It took me forever to trudge through all that snow out there.” She waved her wand and a warm wind blew itself around her, effectively removing the last traces of cold and snow from her expensive looking outfit.

Molly rushed to welcome her youngest child, exclaiming her joy at the unexpected visit. Ginny had been living on the continent for several months, now, working her own personal brand of magic for Malfoy Enterprises. It was rare for her to make appearances at the Burrow anymore, and Harry very gratefully returned the comforting squeeze from George’s hand. He met George’s eyes and nodded, letting him know that he was all right.

In no time, Molly had Ginny set up at the opposite end of the table, a plate overflowing with food set in front of her. Conversations sprung up throughout the gathered masses again, and Harry relaxed, hoping that the usual, uncomfortable confrontation could be avoided for a while.

“And where is Nigel today?” Molly asked, bringing Harry’s attention back to the opposite end of the table. 

“He sends his apologies, Mum, but he just couldn’t get away. He’s in the middle of a very important case for the company,” Ginny answered, sounding smug. Her eyes met Harry’s and her mouth lifted in a smirk. “He’s been promoted, you know. He oversees all of the legal aspects of Malfoy Enterprises, now. He’s got ten other solicitors all working under him.”

Harry only barely managed to not cringe at the self-important tone of Ginny’s voice. He soothed himself with the knowledge that, no matter what, both he and Ginny ended up with what they really wanted. George’s hand on his knee helped enormously as Ginny continued to ramble on and on over the grandeur and importance of her boyfriend.

“Ginny!” Molly exclaimed suddenly, drawing everyone’s attention immediately. “What’s on your finger?”

Ginny gave a wide smile as she lifted her left hand, wiggling her ring finger ostentatiously to show off the enormous ring perched there. Harry was sure that she had kept it Glamoured until that moment, as it would have been impossible to miss the gigantic, shiny diamond and ruby gems otherwise.

There were shrieks of joy and crushing hugs thrown around the table as everyone congratulated Ginny on her new engagement. She smiled and laughed and very obviously enjoyed every moment of the spotlight. Harry was slightly surprised to find that he was happy for her. As he searched his feelings to the unexpected news, he realized that he truly did not feel anything toward Ginny any longer. He smiled to himself as he rested his head on George’s shoulder, content to sit quietly in the background with the warmth of George’s arm draped around his body.

“All right, love?” George whispered into his ear, causing a small shiver to run through his body.

“I’m wonderful,” Harry responded, lifting his head to place a soft, chaste kiss upon his husband’s lips.

“I’m going to hate to take the limelight off of my baby sister,” George said with a smile.

“Maybe we should wait and tell them another day,” Harry answered, suddenly worried about what the response to their news might be.

“You know we won’t get another chance with all the family together,” George admonished. “It’ll be fine. You know Mum will be over the moon, right?”

“I know, but I really don’t relish Ginny’s reaction to us overshadowing her.”

“Don’t worry about it, love,” George said reassuringly. “We’ll wait until the excitement dies down and Mum brings out the afters. Then we’ll break our news.”

Harry nodded his acceptance, but was still worried. Ginny, although coldly civil to Harry over the past few months, could bring the walls crashing down if unhappy about something. She was ebullient in her happiness right now, and Harry shuddered at the tantrum that was sure to come later.

As everyone settled back around the Christmas tree with their pieces of pie and cake and their steaming mugs of tea, cider, and chocolate, Harry couldn’t help but fidget. He knew that George was gearing up to make their big announcement, and he was nervous. He had been excited before Ginny’s arrival, but he was still very unsure as to how the fiery redhead would take their news. She was still talking incessantly about her job, her engagement, and the importance of her fiancé. 

“And he’s been working day and night to streamline the process to get Ministry approval on our newest potion line. You’ve heard of it, I’m sure?” Ginny was saying, sounding overly pleased and quite a bit like Percy of years’ past. “It’s been in all the wizarding papers, all over the world. Now that all the studies are done and the trials have proven successful, it’ll only be a matter of weeks until St. Mungo’s will be able to offer the Pregnancy potion to approved patients.”

“Now explain how this works, dear,” Molly inquired. “I’m not quite sure I understand.”

“Well, I’m afraid I wouldn’t do it justice, since I’m not a Mediwizard or a Potions Master,” Ginny said modestly. “But, from what I understand, the Pregnancy potion makes it possible for a wizard to actually maintain a healthy pregnancy. It takes a bit of work, of course, but with the potion, some spellwork, and the, well, donations from the two wizards involved, it can be done.”

Harry couldn’t stop the blush creeping up his face at the turn in the discussion. George was snickering softly against his shoulder, enjoying the setup far too much. 

“Simply amazing,” Molly said, shaking her head. “And you said they’ve had successes already?”

“Oh, yes,” Ginny answered. “We’ve had ten couples volunteer for the study. One couple has already given birth to a healthy baby girl, and the others are all at various stages of pregnancy. For now, though, we’re keeping their identities a secret. I’ll be giving a press conference next week to introduce the first couple and to announce the availability of the potion here in England,” she said smugly.

“Good show, little sis,” George said, barely keeping a straight face. “Do you know the other volunteers?”

“Well, I’m not privy to all of the information,” she said, looking disappointed. “But, I’ve met the first couple and I know of a few others. But, I wouldn’t tell you, anyway,” she said with a smirk.

George looked down at Harry, raising an eyebrow in question. Harry took a deep breath and nodded, bracing himself for the onslaught that was sure to come.

“Well, this conversation has taken a truly fortuitous turn,” George said, turning everyone’s attention back to him.

“How do you mean, dear?” Molly asked, a keen, twinkling light appearing in her eyes.

“Oh,” Hermione interjected. “Are you and Harry thinking of applying for approval for the Pregnancy potion?”

“Not exactly,” George replied mysteriously. 

“Well?” Ginny asked, her voice tinged with irritation.

George squeezed Harry’s hand reassuringly before letting his broad smile stretch completely across his face. “We already have,” he said.

“What?” Ginny shrieked, causing Harry to cringe.

“We were one of the volunteer couples,” George said simply. 

“How in the hell did you manage that?” Ginny demanded.

“After we bonded, Harry was approached by a representative from Malfoy Enterprises. Seems they were looking for some high-profile subjects.”

“And?” Molly asked, her voice trembling slightly with hope and excitement.

“Well, it was quite a debate,” George said with a laugh. “There was a lot of research, a lot of negotiation, and then a lot of discussions between the two of us.”

George paused and looked around the room. Harry continued to sit tensely, not wanting to meet anyone’s eyes, especially Ginny’s. He was sure that George’s hand was being crushed in his grip, but he was too nervous to stop it.

Expectant eyes stared at George and Harry, and a weighty silence filled the air while everyone waited for George to continue.

“Oh, do just get on with it,” Ginny exclaimed. 

George chuckled at his sister’s impatience. “At first we thought that I would be the one to take the potion, but Harry was worried about me being able to continue my production at the Wheezes if I was pregnant. So…” he trailed off and looked lovingly at Harry.

Harry finally raised his head, meeting George’s eyes and feeling, once again, completely filled with love. Feeling the last of his nervousness melt away in the sure gaze of his lover and husband, he turned to meet the gazes of everyone in the room. 

“I’m nearly four months along, now,” he said with a smile. “We just found out this past week that it’s a boy. We’ll be naming him Frederick James Weasley Potter.”

As expected, the room exploded into noise and motion. Shrieks, cries, and laughs erupted around them and they were flooded with hugs and crushing embraces.

Harry was repeatedly forced to lift his baggy shirt to show off the now noticeable lump adorning his tummy. Molly was nearly incoherent in her tearful joy. He caught only one glimpse of Ginny, looking quite sour as she was suddenly ignored by the masses.

Then, it happened. 

“Um, excuse me?” a voice called out above the chaos. “Excuse me!” it called, more forcefully. 

The crowd parted to show a slightly pale Hermione, clutching her large belly. “I think my water just broke,” she said, her voice tremulous. 

Another explosion of activity began as Hermione, Ron, and the senior Weasleys bustled about, quickly making their way to the Floo and off to St. Mungo’s. A stunned silence followed their departure for a few moments. Various excited conversations started up again in the wake, as children returned to their new toys and adults discussed all of the changes.

Harry decided to help in the clean-up from dinner, his mind focused on his friends and their impending arrival, and then on the life growing within himself. He smiled as he set the charm to wash the dishes, happy for a few moments of peace and quiet.

“You never do what’s expected, do you?” Ginny asked quietly, surprising Harry with her sudden appearance.

“Not really my style, is it?” Harry responded.

“Are you happy, Harry?” she asked.

“Yes. More than ever before,” he replied. “You?”

“Yes,” she answered. Thy stood awkwardly together in the quiet room for a moment, neither one knowing quite what to do next. “Are you ever sorry that…” she started, but faltered.

“Ginny,” Harry said, meeting her soft, brown eyes. “We wanted different things. I loved you…very much, but…”

“But that wasn’t enough for us, was it?”

“No,” Harry answered simply.

“I don’t understand you, Harry. I don’t think I ever really did,” Ginny said. “But I’m glad you found what you were looking for.”

“Same goes for me, Gin,” Harry answered. 

Ginny nodded her head once and then, after putting on her cloak and collecting her packages, she left. 

Harry watched her trudge back across the yard from the window, feeling as though that chapter in his life was finally closed.

He felt strong, warm arms circle around him from behind, and he gratefully sank back into George’s embrace. 

“What do you say we drop our things off at home and then go and join the masses at Mungo’s to await the arrival of the newest Weasley?” he asked, nuzzling his nose against the sensitive skin behind Harry’s ear. 

Harry nodded and allowed George to help him on with his jacket, smiling when George insisted on carrying all of their packages. 

Just before they stepped into the Floo, Harry looked up and saw a sprig of mistletoe over the mantle. Seeing where his beloved’s gaze was directed, George grinned widely and pulled Harry into a toe-curling kiss. After several moments, the two parted, smiling and flushed.

“I love you,” George whispered, his hand resting on the slight bulge in Harry’s belly.

“And I love you,” Harry replied, his fingers entwining with George’s. 

The end.


End file.
